The Other Side
by BrittWitt16
Summary: A collection of one shots set in my story "The Wild Side," involving Stiles and my OC, Sadie Bennet. Basically tiny stories I wanted to tell that I didn't get to because the story is in the first person, all to hold you over until the sequel comes out. All stories from other various characters' point of view. I don't own Teen Wolf.
1. A First Day Miracle

Stiles Stilinski scrunched up his face, using the back of his hand to stifle an enormous yawn. He cocked his head to the right and then to the left, trying and failing to crack his neck. He groaned, looking up and down the sidewalk in front of Beacon Hills High School and tapping his foot impatiently.

The first day of school was never a good thing, but it was even harder to go through exhausted. Unfortunately, the situation couldn't be helped. He had overheard—intercepted—completely eavesdropped on one of his father's calls from work. Apparently there were some hikers in the woods who had gone into a full on panic attack when they found half a body lying amongst all the autumn leaves on the side of the trail. They were calling in loads of back up, everyone the department could get their hands on, and sending out a search party into the preserve to look for the second half of the body before all traces of evidence had been washed away.

Well, how was he supposed to resist that? Before that, the most interesting call he'd ever intercepted had been about a huge fire on the edge of town, where the entire family had basically gone up in smoke. Well, that or the ten-car pile up that had been caused by Snuggles the Bunny, an escaped class pet from the elementary school. But nobody had died or even been seriously injured. It was only interesting because it sounded weird, not because it was gruesome or tragic or awesome.

So Stiles had done what any self-respecting, excited, overly energetic, bored, procrastinating teenager would do. He'd dragged his best friend Scott McCall out to the woods to look for the second half of the body. Of course, it'd only taken them about a total of twenty minutes before his father had found him lurking behind a tree. That had earned him a very long talk about invasion of privacy, the rules of the law, respectable bedtimes on a school night, and how much it really annoyed his father when he hid his jumbo bags of greasy potato chips. But at least he'd been the only one forcibly captured. Scott had gotten off scot-free. Heh… Scott-free…

The late night adventure meant that Stiles had woken up extremely tired and disgruntled, even less excited for a fun day full of learning than he might have been under normal circumstances. The only thing that was currently keeping him going was a text he'd gotten from Scott in the middle of the night. Apparently, while he'd been trying to find his way back out of the forest, Scott had been attacked by a herd of deer, bitten in the side by some kind of wild animal with vicious fangs, and almost been hit by a car. But despite the kickass welcome-back story he had, Scott seemed to be taking his sweet time in getting to school.

Stiles hoisted his book bag a little higher on his back. He thought momentarily about going in to his locker and just talking to Scott after class so he wouldn't be late. Then he mentally kicked himself. Who cared if he was late? It was the first day of school, and if he really wanted to go through the trouble of coming up with an excuse, he could just say that he had a little trouble finding the room. That wasn't an outrageous lie for a sophomore to tell, and if Scott didn't show up soon, it would be one that he definitely used. But thankfully, Scott chose that moment to appear, hurrying over from the bike rack with a slightly apologetic, if disgruntled, expression.

"Yo, bout time," Stiles greeted, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet in anticipation.

"You wanna see it or not?" Scott dismissed with a small grin. Obviously he knew that Stiles couldn't actually be upset by his tardiness. That would just be majorly hypocritical. Beside, he was entirely too excited to be annoyed.

"Duh," Stiles replied, rubbing his hands together as Scott rested his backpack down on a nearby bench. "Kay, let's see this thing!" Scott glanced around the schoolyard for a moment before hiking up his T-shirt, revealing a large square of gauze that had been taped on. It covered his entire side, and unless Stiles's eyes were deceiving him, there was a splotch of blood seeping through from the bite. He could only imagine what kind of gory wound that was hiding. "Ooh," he breathed, instinctively reaching out a hand to poke it.

"Yeah—woah!" Scott objected, recoiling and giving Stiles a reproachful look. Stiles scrunched up his nose in annoyance, but nonetheless he backed off, holding his hands up in surrender. Scott dropped his shirt once more, swinging his backpack and lacrosse stick up and over his shoulder. "It was too dark to see much, but I'm pretty sure it was a wolf." Stiles raised his eyebrows, suppressing the urge to snort as he followed his friend up the walkway to the school.

"A wolf bit you?" he asked skeptically.

"Uh huh."

"No, not a chance."

"I heard a wolf howling," Scott insisted, falling into step beside him

"No, you didn't," Stiles argued, failing to keep the tone of amusement out of his voice. Sometimes it was just hilarious how little Scott seemed to know about the world around him.

"What do you mean 'no I didn't'?" he asked with a perplexed grin. "How do you know what I heard?"

"Because California doesn't have wolves, okay?" Stiles elaborated with a laugh. "Not in like sixty years." They paused on the verge of the school steps, Stiles turning back to face a very contemplative Scott. In his opinion, it was entirely too early in the morning to look like you were thinking that hard about something.

"Really?" Scott asked.

"Yes, really," he insisted, voiced tinged with a hint of annoyance as he repeated himself yet again. "There are no wolves in California." Scott looked like he might object again, but after a moment he changed tactics, trading the sour look of confusion for a secretive smirk.

"Alright, well if you don't believe me about the wolf, then you're definitely not going to believe me about when I tell you I found the body." Stiles stomach lurched with excitement, and for a moment he considered pinching himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming. Instead, his excitement seeped uncontrollably through his limbs the way it normally did, making his arms flail like they had a mind of their own while an open-mouthed grin threated to split his face in half.

"Are you kidding me?!" he gushed, holding one hand up towards Scott while the other grounded itself on his backpack.

"No, I wish," Scott sighed. He casually stuffed one hand in his pocket, holding the strap of his bag as he grinned slightly. "I'm gonna have nightmares for a month." Stiles attempted to hold back his excitement, letting out a gleeful laugh before trying to recollect himself.

"Oh God, that is friggen awesome," he wheezed, practically beaming. "I mean, this is seriously going to be the best thing that's happened to this town since…" He trailed off, his eyes immediately caught by something infinitely more interesting that school, Scott or corpses.

Lydia Martin was strutting up the pathway in all her glory. Her clothes were fashionably picked, her makeup impeccably accentuating all of her glorious features, and every perfect strawberry-blonde hair on her head blowing perfectly behind her into perfect place. She had two girls with her, a fumbling blonde that Stiles was fairly certain he'd had one or two classes with in middle school, and a pretty brunette girl who he didn't know. They all walked confidently—at least, Lydia and the brunette girl did—in battle formation with the five-foot-three-inch angel as the spearhead. Her head was held high with a winning smile on her face as several other students stopped to stare at her. Honestly, it was hard not to stare at Lydia Martin. Actually, Stiles found it completely impossible.

"…Since Lydia Martin was born," Stiles rushed to finish as the girls drew even with them. "Hey, Lydia," he greeted with his best attempt at a charming smile. "You and your friend look…" But as he probably should have expected, the group of girls blew past him without so much as a glance, leaving him with nothing but the sweet scent of perfume for his troubles. "…like you're gonna ignore me," he finished lamely, mentally kicking himself. It was a new year in Beacon Hills, but just because he'd gotten a bit of excitement the night before did not mean anything in the prison that was high school was going to change any time soon.

Or at least, that's what he thought. But then, a miracle happened.

Just as he'd resigned himself to enjoying nothing more but Lydia's back and flowing hair as she walked away from him, the brunette girl on her right turned around. She spun back with ease, lifting a carefully manicured hand in a wave and gracing Stiles with one of the most blinding smiles he had ever seen. Was this real life? Was this legitimately happening? Was he actually being acknowledged by an attractive member of the opposite sex who had absolutely no obligation to give him the time of day?

For the second time that morning, Stiles suppressed the urge to pinch himself. Instead, he attempted to wave back to the girl, his hand feeling almost numb. But the brunette had already turned her back once more, her hair flouncing behind her as she strutted after Lydia, into the school and out of sight.

"Dude," Stiles breathed, staring after the group and feeling almost frozen in place. He moved his raised hand behind him, blindly waving it about so he could hit Scott in the chest. "Dude! Did you see that?!"

"Uh, yeah?" Scott drawled from somewhere behind him, obviously not comprehending the vast significance of the phenomenon that had just taken place before their eyes.

"That was acknowledgement!" Stiles gushed, still staring at the doors. "That was like pure, straight up acknowledgement! Ha! I exist!"

"Um, okay…? But Lydia still didn't look at you," his so-called friend pointed out. Stiles spun around, now _actually_ beaming, and far too enthusiastic to be brought down by Scott's details.

"But her friend did!" he argued. "Her very, very aesthetically pleasing friend totally knows that I am an actual human being that exists and is completely capable and worthy of receiving greetings!" Scott cocked an eyebrow, smirking at him in amusement.

"Yeah, good for you," he chuckled, shaking his head slightly. "Do you know who said aesthetically pleasing friend is?"

"No," Stiles replied turning back to the building and joining the procession to get inside. "Well, not really. I know she's Lydia's friend."

"Wow, way to go Einstein," Scott jabbed mockingly, but Stiles waved him off.

"No, no, no, not just like a casual friend. Like, an actual friend, her best friend. Pretty sure she moved in with Lydia over the summer."

"Oh," Scott replied, raising his eyebrows in mild interest. "So she's new?"

"Yeah," Stiles agreed, before correcting himself once more. "Well actually, she's new to the school. She moved in a couple months ago, so I'm sure she's plenty acquainted with all the quote on quote 'very important people' of Beacon Hills."

"How do you know all this anyway?" Scott asked him, narrowing his eyes as they finally managed to make it into the hallway flooded with students. Stiles winced internally.

"I observed. With my eyes," he dismissed casually. Unfortunately, his friend didn't seem to buy it.

"Stiles," he said in a warning tone, making him huff.

"Fine, so I may or may not have taken a little detour by their house a few times while I was going about my business over the summer. More on the side of may."

"Dude," Scott had the audacity to snort. "You know that's like stalking, right?"

"It is not stalking!" Stiles defended himself. "I just occasionally drove by their house and hoped they were outside. Lydia's like, the most important girl in my life, and if I want to get anywhere with her, I need to have a basic knowledge of what's going on with her." Scott simply rolled his eyes and dropped the subject as they deposited their books in their lockers.

Stiles's mouth might have been experiencing one of those ridiculously rare moments when he couldn't speak, but his mind was reeling. He realized it was undoubtedly an overreaction. It was probably a one time incident, after all, a singular wave from a confident new girl with the world wrapped around her finger. She didn't have a clue who he was. Unless of course—and his stomach lurched at the thought of it—she'd recognized him from one of the several times he'd nearly crashed his Jeep in front of their house. But he immediately dismissed the thought. If she'd recognized him as the "stalker" she had encountered at any point over the summer, she probably wouldn't have waved. And she definitely wouldn't have given him that dazzling, thousand-watt smile.

Stiles attempted to shake the image from his head, smiling to himself. It was all new to him, but as far as he was concerned, the year was off to a pretty good start. A gruesome murder, his best friend surviving an attack from some mystery wild animal, and a brief interaction with the hot new girl who he didn't know—didn't know _yet_, he corrected himself—and who just so happened to be best friends with the girl of his dreams. He didn't want to get his hopes up, but maybe this was the year that things in Beacon Hills started to change.

He let that glowing ember of hope settle in his mind for a few minutes, closing his locker and heading off to English with his wounded friend. But then another glorious thought occurred to him and he nearly stopped short, raising a hand to slap Scott on the chest.

"Yo, dude, how early do you think that whole experiment thing starts?"

"What?" Scott asked, scrunching up his face in pure confusion.

"You know, the whole experimenting-with-your-roommate thing," he elaborated with unbridled excitement. "Cause, you know, they are two very hot girls who just happen to be living with each other, so…"

"Dude!" Scott exclaimed, shooting him a reprimanding glare. Stiles held up his hands once more, but was far too intrigued to drop the subject.

"I'm just saying! Do you think that doesn't happen until college or…?"

"I don't know, Stiles!"

"…Oh my God, you think Jackson…?"

"Egh! No! Stop!"

"Oh please, tell me you wouldn't want to see that, cause, man, if I were him…"

"Stiles! Shut up!"

"Right, yeah. Sorry…"

**A/N: Hey guys! Long time no see! Ha ha, so this kind of popped into my head. It's limited third person because when I write from other characters' point of view I tend to do that. I might do the next one as Stiles first person, not sure. Let me know if this narration style is okay, and what you think about the events that you missed! ;D Also suggestions for one shots! Thanks for reading!**

**-Brittney**


	2. Library Services

**Chapter 2 - Library Services - Stiles**

_"Moon phases? Shape shifters? Lycanthropy? Werewolves? _Anything?!_ Hell, I'll even take a book on freaking fairies at this point! Why are there absolutely no books in this library about the supernatural?"_

Under normal circumstances, I would have just looked up "werewolves" on the library computer catalog. Unfortunately, since I was obviously in an _extreme moment of crisis_, every single computer was occupied by some stupid person doing some stupid homework assigned by some stupid teacher. Which was stupid. It occurred to me that if I spent a little more time at the library I might have a general idea of where I was supposed to be looking for this stuff, but I canned that thought almost immediately. I had important things to do—bodies to find, lacrosse to practice, video games to play, magical online kingdoms to save—and those all involved not being at the library. So for the moment, I was stuck walking up and down every damn row waiting for something to catch my eye.

I thought I saw the word "wolf" once or twice, but I honestly might have been hallucinating out of pure, misguided hope. I stretched my arms to the side, running my hands over the books and cursing under my breath as my eyes scanned title after useless title. But even after half an hour of searching, I'd still come up with nothing.

"Seriously? It's a small town library. How many books could there really be?" I grumbled, glaring at the top shelf, where a book displaying a large red bird I'd hoped might be a phoenix turned out to be an encyclopedia on tropical birds. I was literally two seconds away from completely giving up—I'd just do online research, or stare at one of the computer hogs until they felt so uncomfortable that they had to leave—when a voice from the end of the aisle interrupted my thoughts.

"Can I help you?"

My head jerked painfully to the side, and I barely managed to suppress a shriek of surprise that probably wouldn't have been appreciated in a library. But by the next instant, I didn't have to worry about being too loud, because I was dumbstruck and horrified. There at the end of the row, two or three books clutched in her arms, was Sadie Bennet. Sadie Bennet, the pretty brunette girl with the confident walk and the bright smile who was not just friends with but actually living with Lydia Martin. But now it wasn't just a matter of her waving to me, oh no. There had definitely been words coming out of her mouth, and I was like ninety percent sure those words had been directed at me. She'd just asked me a question. There was a pretty girl talking to me in a library and I was fairly positive that I was awake. I was also still pressed awkwardly against the bookshelf, I realized, staring at her in awed silence, which seemed to be making her uncomfortable. I hastily cleared my throat, jumping back from the bookshelf and shoving my browsing hands in my pockets.

"W-What? O-oh, no, no, nah, I'm—I'm good," I tried to assure her casually. I winced, mentally kicking myself repeatedly for stuttering horribly over the terrible excuse for a sentence. I bounced nervously on my feet, trying to remain outwardly calm as her chocolate-y brown eyes looked me over from head to toe. One of her eyebrows raised slightly in confusion at my embarrassingly skittish behavior.

"O-kay," she dismissed skeptically. She shook her head slightly and spun on the heel of her boot, walking back down the aisle and out of sight once more. I hissed and stomped slightly in frustration, raising my hand to my head and looking up to the ceiling in despair.

_"Great. Open your mouth and prove what a socially inept dweeb you are on the first shot. Way to go, Stiles. Way to go."_

I turned back to the shelf, ready to continue my search for magic-y werewolf books, before the weight of Sadie's question actually hit me. _"Can I help you"_ was generally an employee line. Which meant she worked here. Which meant she had at least some basic knowledge of the library. At least, miles more than I did. And even if she didn't, hey, she probably had access to some special computer or the power to kick someone off for like two seconds so I could use the catalog. And it gave me the perfect opportunity to talk to her again. Of course, that also meant it was another opportunity to completely botch my sentences and make me look like some creepy, stammering idiot, but at the moment I was trying to not think about that too hard.

Giving the parrot book one last glare for good measure, I sprinted out of the aisle, tripping over myself as I chased after the brunette.

"W-Wait!" I called after her. She paused midstride, hair swishing around her shoulders as she turned around to face me with raised eyebrows. I stumbled up to her, taking a deep breath as I tried to figure out exactly how to indicate what I was looking for without coming off as a total freak. "Okay yeah—um—could you just like, point me in the direction of the—uh—mythology section? Fantasy research or something?" I winced. Yeah. Totally coming off as a completely suspicious freak.

But then another miracle occurred. Instead of looking totally weirded out the way most pretty, popular girls would have, Sadie's face broke into another one of those dazzling smiles. My mouth hung open slightly in awe and confusion as she perked up slightly.

"Yeah, sure," she conceded, tossing her head to the side. She brushed past me with a wave of her hand, indicating that I should follow her. That was an order that I had absolutely no trouble following, and after a single moment of stunned confusion I trailed after her. She led the way to the next row of books, stopping on the exact opposite side of where I had just been looking. Of course. Nearly half a freaking hour of searching and I'd finally gotten help when I was one row away from victory. "Looking for anything in particular?" Her question caught me off guard, and I jumped slightly again. I threw her a sideways glance as her fingers trailed across the books on the shelves. I'd been expecting just a quick, _"Here you go!" "Oh thanks!" _But it hadn't actually occurred to me that she might stick around, and actually _do_ her job to help me find what I was looking for.

"Oh, nah, n-not really," I stammered, cursing in my head as I scrambled for an answer. "You know, mostly like…werewolves or something." I flinched as the word actually came out of my mouth. It was the first time I'd said it out loud since I started seriously considering the possibility that my best friend could be a werewolf. But if it sounded weird to my company, she didn't show it. She nodded dutifully, almost instantly grabbing a book off the shelf and thrusting it in my direction. I stared down at it, surprised by the quick retrieval, before a slight flick of her wrist prompted me to take it. I scrambled to accept it, flipping it over in my hands to see the picture of a bright full moon on the front cover. The title was etched in with silver writing, indicating that it was full of all sorts of mythical creatures affected by the moon, with a focus on werewolves. I raised my eyebrows slightly, flipping open to the table of contents to see if anything looked particularly helpful.

"So…" The feminine voice broke me out of my thoughts again, and I looked up in bewilderment as I realized Sadie was speaking to me again. She kept her eyes trained on the shelf, searching for any more books that she deemed helpful, but she was definitely talking to me. The moon book was forgotten in my hands as I looked up at her, taking a moment to look her over outside of the school setting and away from Lydia.

She was a lot taller than her friend was, almost as tall as me. Her brown hair just reached past her shoulders, brushing the knitting of the form fitting black sweater she was wearing over her blue tank top. I glanced at the dog tags around her neck, then decided they were entirely too close to her admittedly ample chest to inspect for too long. I wasn't feeling up to testing my resolve, and I didn't want her to get the wrong idea if she decided to glance my way. Instead, I averted my eyes down her long legs, clad in skinny jeans that were neatly tucked into knee-high leather boots that strained slightly as she reached up for a higher book.

"What are the books for?" Sadie asked.

"Hm?" It took me a second to respond with actual words. I'd forgotten she was speaking at all, actually, then got a little flustered as I tried to pretend I hadn't totally been checking her out. And that was all before I actually had to think of an answer. "O-Oh, just an essay," I invented wildly. Her brown eyes darted in my direction, paired with a disbelieving smirk.

"You're writing an essay on werewolves? What classes are _you_ taking?" she giggled. But for once, it didn't sound like she was laughing at me, but the idea that I could be lucky enough to write a paper like that. Which of course, I wasn't. I was much, much less lucky. Nevertheless, I chuckled nervously, closing the book in my hands and drumming my thumbs on the cover.

"Oh! Oh, it's for…English," I lied. My eyes darted frantically around as I tried to think of an excuse. What had I been doing in English? Okay. What was I _supposed_ to be doing in English? Some summer book I hadn't really liked. _Meta… Metamorphosis!_ Ha ha! Yes! "Yeah, you know," I sighed, trying to grin convincingly. "Cause my class just finished _Metamorphosis_ so I'm writing a paper on other kinds of transformations." She seemed to consider that, grabbing two more books off the shelf before handing them to me with a smile.

"Oh, that's really interesting," she praised. Score. I grinned widely, scoffing as I tucked the books under my arm and mentally celebrated the convincing lie. "Cause I'm pretty sure I'm in your English class." The party in my head immediately screeched to a halt, and I looked up at her with wide eyes. Shit. Of course she was in my English class. She sat behind Allison. The only reason she didn't immediately jump to mind as the best thing _about_ my English class was because she sat a row behind me, and it was hard to look at her too often. Shit. Shit. Shit.

"Right," I sighed as the smile fell from my face. "Because you're Allison's friend. Damnit." I hadn't meant to say the last profanity out loud, and I stomped slightly. Of course, I wasn't able to do anything right. But she didn't seem to mind. Better yet, she didn't question it. Instead, she giggled again, keeping that victorious smirk on her face before she held out a hand.

"Sadie Bennet," she introduced. My eyebrows shot up, and my eyes flicked continuously between her large eyes, her grin and her extended extremity. It was all just a little much to process. I mean, I'd freaked out when she'd so much as smiled at me on the first day of school. But now a conversation? An introduction? A handshake? I hadn't so much as gotten a glance from any of the so-called popular girls since I was about twelve, unless I was doing something ridiculously stupid that made them crinkle their noses at me. But Sadie's nose was distinctly _not _crinkled. She actually looked pleasantly expectant. Why was she expectant again?

I looked down at her hand, my brain suddenly catching up to reality. I shifted the books in my arms, my hand shooting out to accept hers in a shake. I was momentarily thrown again. She had relatively delicate looking hands, but she had one of those surprisingly strong handshakes, like someone who's been trained to make a demanding, good impression. Not that she really needed to prove herself to me at the moment. I was still trying to comprehend that this was reality.

"R-Right," I stammered, trying to grip slightly tighter in an attempt to seem more confident. "You're—uh—you're living with Lydia, right?" I asked, as if that was something that I wasn't one hundred and ten percent sure about. She nodded slightly, hopefully used to the fact that people knew that much information about her and not totally freaking out about the fact I knew exactly where she lived. But when she didn't protest, I released a relieved smile. Good. So that wasn't weird. As for the fact that I totally already knew her name, well… It was probably more polite to not remind her that she'd been introduced to the class on the first day of school. Nobody wanted to think about the first day of school, least of all me and the new girl. Unless I was thinking about how she'd waved at me, or how Lydia had looked in that plaid skirt, or Scott kicking ass on the lacrosse field, or how Lydia looked in that really short plaid skirt…

Sadie had that expectant look on again, and I realized that I still hadn't completed the introduction.

"Oh! Sorry!" I apologized, eyes wide. "Stiles Stilinski!" I repeated the name in my head. I'd said that right, right? I hadn't introduced myself wrong, right? Hadn't accidentally given my freakazoid real name? Hadn't slipped into a James Bond impression? Nope, Stiles Stilinski. I was fairly certain that I'd actually been able to pull that off without screwing up.

She nodded slightly, and her dark eyelashes knitted together as she narrowed her eyes at me. They darted over my face, scrutinizing me, and I let out another mental string of curse words as I felt my cheeks heat up. Why oh why was I cursed with pale skin? It was a freaking nightmare. But Sadie didn't seem to mind, or she just hadn't noticed. She looked almost like she was trying to remember something for a moment, until she finally gave up and looked down.

I followed her gaze, stomach clenching when I realized I was still holding her hand. My mouth opened slightly as I contemplated the prolonged contact, stuck staring at her soft hand in mine. Then she cleared her throat, pulling her hand away and turning back to the bookshelves. I grimaced, my hand suddenly cold and probably sweating from nerves. I quickly tried to wipe my hands on my jeans, turning my shoulders slightly so I could attempt to do it discreetly.

"Well, Stiles," she went on, and my brain pretty much stalled as I tried to process the fact that she was actually saying my name. "Whatever you need these books for, I've found that the older they are, the better. Otherwise the mythology gets tainted by stuff like _Twilight_ or _Vampire Diaries_." I let out an honest chuckle at her words, trying not to stare as she reached for the top shelf, her back arching slightly. Lucky for me, that combined with the step stool she was standing on put me at about eye-level with the seat of her pants. Damn.

Thankfully, Sadie offered a distraction by dropping an old, heavy book into my hands. I flipped it over gently, afraid that being too rough might cause the flaky red binding to peel right off. There were gold letters emblazoned on the front, faded but still legible. _"The History of Lycanthropy."_ I glanced up at Sadie curiously as she kicked the step stool away. She hadn't even batted an eye before grabbing the books, which meant that she presumably had at least a basic knowledge of the supernatural. Which was unexpected and pretty damn impressive for someone of her social stature and striking physique. I flipped through a few pages of the book before looking back to find she was watching me.

"You know what lycanthropy is?" I dared to ask. Sadie simply shrugged, tossing her hair over her shoulder again with a knowing smirk. She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the bookshelf casually, looking very pleased by my stunned silence. She looked between the book and my face again before biting her lower lip. I groaned internally. Really, there's nothing worse for concentration levels than attractive people biting their lips. I'm pretty sure that's not a personal weakness either. It's like, a law of the universe.

"Anything else?" she asked. As predicted, I had completely zoned out, and her question made me jump about a foot in the air. I winced, rubbing the back of my head and staring intently down at the books in my hands.

"Ah, no—yeah this is good." She giggled again, and I forced myself to keep my eyes on the cover of the lycanthropy book. More important things to worry about. Werewolves. Lacrosse. Life and death.

"I'll check you out," I heard her say, and my head snapped up so quickly I was surprised it didn't fall right off. But instead of intently looking over my body the way my mind had concluded she would be, she was brushing past me, headed for the center of the library again. I spluttered, my brain trying to catch up once more.

"Huh?" That was all I managed to get out at first, ready to run a hand down my face. Then I remembered that my hands were full of heavy books. "Oh! The books! Yes, the books need to be checked out. Right." I didn't seem to be able to stop the stream of nervous chuckles escaping from my mouth as I followed her out of the aisle. When I finally did clamp my mouth shut, I glared down at the offending books for all I was worth. Stupid freaking subconscious and books and pretty people…

"Stiles?" My head snapped up as Sadie called me, terrified that I might have started grumbling out loud.

"Hm?" I stepped up to the counter as she walked behind the desk, looking as though she was thinking really hard about something.

"You don't drive a blue Jeep, do you?" For a moment, it honestly felt like the entire world paused. Why the holy hell would Sadie know what kind of car I drove? She and Lydia always seemed to be at school before I could even drag myself out of bed, and they were gone just a few minutes after the bell rang. Even on the days they stayed for lacrosse, I always seemed to take so long in the locker room that they vanished before I could get to the parking lot. I knew Lydia's car like the back of my hand, and could pick it out in an instant, so I knew that I almost never passed them on the road for her to spot me. I freaked out for a moment…but no. Don't jump to conclusions.

"Um…uh, yeah actually. That's mine. Why?" I let out a sigh of relief as I managed to get the sentence out without stuttering.

"Oh, nothing," she replied, waving my lingering fears out of the air. I grinned, drumming my hands on my stack of books. Sadie walked over, pursing her lips and reaching out to take the books from me. She leaned in close, slowly dragging the books out of my hands and towards her chest with a smirk.

"_Shit. Too close to my face. Chest leaning too far forward. Shit. Don't look. It's a trap. Whatever you do, do not look."_ I essentially felt my whole brain short circuiting, one thought flashing repeatedly behind my eyes like a giant warning siren. _"Girl!"_

"It's just that I saw you drive by the house about fifty times this summer," she revealed, smirk still plastered across her face. "Didn't recognize you when you weren't trying to look casual behind the steering wheel."

Busted.

I half-gasped as a response, which of course choked me and forced me to sprawl into a coughing fit. Because the moment really wasn't quite demeaning enough until I was literally choking on air. That seemed to be the appropriate response though, because Sadie grinned, backing away and flouncing over to the computer so she could check the books out. She plopped gracefully down in her chair as I tried to wipe the pained tears from my eyes.

"So, you've got a thing for Lydia?" she asked, causing my heart to drop straight down into my stomach, where it splashed violently into the stomach acid and made me feel just a tad nauseous.

"Wh-What?!" I choked out, not completely successful in my attempt to make it sound like I was laughing at the absurdity of the statement. "N-No! Why would you think something crazy like that?" Sadie cocked an eyebrow, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

"Besides the fact that you basically staked out our house over the summer?" she mused. "Probably that your first response to me was 'you live in Lydia's house' and not 'you're new.'" I opened my mouth to protest, but couldn't think of a good enough excuse. I grimaced, tossing my head slightly in agreement. I clamped my mouth shut, staring down at the grain of the counter and preparing myself for the onslaught of uncomfortable questions and accusations that would follow.

The last thing I needed was for the popular new girl to know I was pretty much obsessed with her best friend. On top of that, she knew I'd been watching the house over the summer. I could practically feel the insults rolling off her in anticipation. _Why would she like a weirdo like you?_

"There's a party tonight." I slowly lifted my head in surprise, prying one of my eyes open slightly so I could look at her.

"What?" She pushed the stack of books towards me, staring down at them as she took a deep breath.

"There's a party at our house tonight," she repeated. "Everyone's invited. Think you're coming?" I pushed my surprise aside, letting out a long-suffering sigh and dragging the books toward me so I could tuck them under my arm.

"Eh, I know, but 'everyone's invited' usually means 'everyone but nobodies,' so probably not." I kept my eyes down on the floor, drumming my fingers against the spines of the books and waiting. All I had to do was listen to the half-hearted _"oh that's too bad bye"_ and then I could duck out of the library and pretend this entire awkward encounter hadn't happened. But Sadie, apparently, had other plans.

"You should." I looked up quickly in surprise. She looked almost concerned, eyebrows knitted together like she honestly couldn't understand why I thought I couldn't go. "I mean, you're friends with Scott, right? And he's taking Allison, so…" She let the sentence hang in the air, seemingly unsure of how to finish. I just stared at her. Was she…? No. No, that was not what was happening. I wasn't being invited to the cool kids' party. Was I? Because I wasn't exactly sure I could handle that much excitement on top of the fact that my best friend was a freaking werewolf. "Come on," she sighed with a teasing smile. "Don't pretend you're not dying to be invited to Lydia's. Consider this your formal invitation."

And there it was. Formal invitation. _"Yeah Stiles Stilinski, not only do you exist, not only are you capable of waving and speaking in intelligent sentences, I'm going to completely ignore the fact that you basically stalked me and my best friend over the summer and that you waltzed in here looking to research werewolves for whatever weird hobbies you have in your spare time, and I'm going to invite you to come hang out with me and all the other people you wish you were cool enough to hang out with at my house with good music and alcohol."_ I opened and closed my mouth. All of it was too good to be true. Like, literally, so good that I was almost more comfortable thinking it was a joke or a trap.

But Sadie Bennet didn't look like she was trying to trap me. She actually looked sincere, a small smile tugging at her lips as she propped her elbows on the counter and leaned forward in earnest. I breathed deeply through my nose as she blinked at me. She was actually inviting me. Sadie Bennet inviting me to Lydia Martin's house to hang out with the popular kids. Of course, there were more important things going on. My best friend was a freaking werewolf, and it was the night of his first full moon. Then again, Scott was going with Allison, as Sadie had pointed out. I had to try and stop him. He couldn't go to a party of drunk teenagers and then lose control over whatever wolfy powers he had. It'd be a massacre. But it was always better to have a back up plan, right? What if Scott decided to go anyway? Wouldn't it be better to keep an eye on him?

"Uh, sure." The answer was out in the air before I'd mentally decided that I was going to accept. But there it was. I was going to a party. I felt my face brightening as Sadie perked up at the affirmative answer. "Yeah, no, I'll uh…I'll see you there. Thanks, Sadie." Her small smile widened, and suddenly I was staring down that dazzling grin she'd given me on the first day of school.

"Anytime," she chirped. Actually chirped. Like some sort of cartoon princess or something. I nodded slowly, still trying to see past the blinding smile. Finally I just lifted a hand and backed away, deciding it would probably be best to get out of there before I made an ass of myself again. But she called me back. "Oh, and Stiles?"

"Yeah?" I asked, spinning back on my heel and attempting to lean casually against the door.

"Let me know if there's an impending werewolf problem, yeah? I'm pretty sure the full moon's tonight." I felt all of the color drain from my face, and it actually took me a considerable amount of time before I realized she was teasing me.

"Aha!" I laughed, though it came out so high, I wasn't completely sure I'd actually made any noise. "Funny, yeah!"

"Shh!" An old lady in an armchair by the door twisted in her seat to hiss at me, glaring through glasses that looked about an inch thick.

"Right!" I squeaked, shaking my head violently. "N-No. Sh! Sorry. Bye!" Before I could manage to screw up another simple social interaction with a female, I pushed the door open and rushed outside. I nearly tripped over myself as I ran, flailing as I tried to keep my balance and my hold on the books. I patted my pockets. Keys. I needed keys. When I finally found them, I forced myself to take a deep breath.

Okay. So that was awkward, but for the most part, it'd been a successful trip out. I'd gotten a lot more helpful reading material than I had expected, properly been introduced to the best friend of Lydia freaking Martin, and managed to hold up a fairly decent conversation. At least, I figured it was decent. She'd smiled and laughed a lot, and no matter how weird I'd been, she'd still invited me over to her house. I tried not to get too excited about it, though. The party was a back up plan. I had to try and help Scott first, and then if he didn't believe me, I'd go to the party. If he did, I'd just tell Sadie that I couldn't find her, but I had a nice time. That is, if she ever tried talking to me again, and there was a distinct possibility that she wouldn't. But then…

As I climbed into my Jeep, I let myself think over another possibility. Sadie was friends with Allison. Allison was interested in Scott. And Scott was my best friend. So, if Scott and Allison hit it off, there was a distinct possibility that I'd be seeing a lot more of Sadie Bennet.

But that was only if Scott's thing with Allison worked out. Which it certainly wouldn't if he accidentally ripped her throat out on the dance floor. Which I why I needed to get back to my house and do some reading.

I shook my head. There were more important things to worry about right now, even if it was pretty much a miracle how long I'd been talking to Sadie for.

Who would've guessed? Beacon Hills Public Library: Employing attractive women to give you an excuse to talk to them since whenever the hell this place opened.

Maybe I should visit the library more often.

* * *

**A/N: Hey guys! So I've been dutifully working on this instead of my homework for the last couple days. It ended up being a hell of a lot longer than I intended, but I have a feeling that you guys won't mind too much.**

**I got mixed reviews about the narration of the last chapter. Some people prefer first person, some prefer third. I wanted to toy around with Stiles in the first person, because I feel like it gives me more of a chance to do rambling internal monologues. Also, I thought it fit, since the only two characters in this scene were Sadie and Stiles, and you've already heard Sadie's point of view. Maybe reread it now that you know what's happening in Stiles's mind?**

**Anyway, let me know what you think. And don't forget to send in your questions about what's going to happen in season 2! I've gotten a lot of requests for one shots, but no future-plot questions. Thanks!**

**-Brittney**


	3. The Policy

**Chapter 3 - The Policy**

"Dude, what the hell?"

"I don't know."

"No seriously, dude! What the hell?!"

"I don't know, Stiles!" Scott barked. Stiles groaned, smacking his hand into the steering wheel and glancing in his rearview mirror again. They'd just dropped Sadie off at Lydia's house, after hearing the extremely unsettling news that Sadie and Derek knew a lot more about each other than they were supposed to. Sadie didn't know anything about Derek, really, but the fact that she knew him at all was more than Stiles was comfortable with. He didn't want them anywhere near each other. Currently, he was half expecting the creepy werewolf to pop up in his rearview mirror, flip him the bird and then prance into the Martin household to ruin some more lives. Stiles narrowed his eyes at the empty road, watching the house dutifully until they had pulled around a corner.

"Okay," he sighed, forcing himself to take a deep breath. "What the hell could Derek want with Sadie?"

"I…don't…know," Scott repeated with a glare. Stiles was hardly intimidated. His best friend might have been a werewolf, a concept he'd only really grasped when he'd tried to kill him last week, but he was still Scott. And since he still looked distinctly human, Stiles felt like he was in the clear. He had to ask these questions, whether or not they were things they wanted to hear.

"I mean, is being friends with Allison enough of a reason to keep her on the radar?" he pressed. Scott sighed, resting his head in his hands and doubling over.

"I don't think so," he confessed. "I mean, it sounds like she stood up to him, but it shouldn't be a good enough reason to tail her." He paused for a moment before slouching back in the passenger seat. "I don't know. Maybe it's nothing."

"N-Nothi-Nothing?!" Stiles stammered. "'Maybe it's nothing'?! Scott! It's a freaking psycho wolf who's apparently stalking and investigating everyone you come in contact with! How—How is that not something?! Why are you not freaking out about the fact that Derek even knows who they are?!"

"I _am_ freaking out, Stiles!" Scott burst, sitting up straight in his seat again. "I'm not saying that it's good or that we shouldn't try to—to keep them safe! All I'm saying is that it doesn't mean he's stalking them! He—He can't be stalking them…" His voice was just slightly quieter as he finished, as if he was trying to convince himself that the monster that had bitten him wasn't keeping an eye on his girlfriend. Stiles balked.

"Scott, Derek showed up at the library while Sadie was working," he spat, glancing back and forth from his friend to the road. "He pretty much told her straight up that he was following her. 'I'm sure I'll see you around, Sadie'? I mean, come on, dude!"

"Maybe he was just following you?" Scott suggested, having the nerve to almost sound hopeful. Stiles narrowed his eyes.

"Wow, yes, thank you, Scott," he clipped. "That makes me feel loads better. Thank you _so much_ for putting the image of a hulking, homicidal werewolf watching me into my head! Thank you!"

"Derek knows I'm counting on you," Scott tried to reason. "He knows you were doing research. Maybe he was trying to find out how much you knew."

"Or, maybe he was trying to kill me," Stiles bit back. "You know, with his werewolf teeth?! Or claws?!" Scott groaned and slammed his back into the passenger seat. "And—And how does that explain anything about why he even knows Sadie's name?"

"It doesn't," Scott sighed, shaking his head. "He knew about Allison though. I mean, he could have heard her name anywhere. We were at her party on the full moon."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Werewolf hearing," Stiles grumbled, slouching forward. His fingers tapped anxiously on the steering wheel, and even though the house was long gone, his eyes flicked up to glance in the rear view mirror. "I still don't want him anywhere near her." He saw Scott look over at him out of the corner of his eye, probably even more surprised than he was by the ferocity in his voice. However, he refrained from commenting on it.

After that, the ride to Scott's house was basically silent. They did eventually come to the conclusion that, as much as they wanted to know the reasoning behind Derek's small chat with Sadie, asking him about it was out of the question. They weren't going looking for Derek after they'd gotten him thrown in jail for killing his sister, even if they weren't a hundred percent sure now that he'd murdered her. Hopefully, when they had the misfortune of running into Derek again, they'd be able to grill him about it. Until then, the best they could do was to try and stay close to Allison and Sadie.

Honestly? Not something Stiles felt like complaining about.

"Hey, man," Scott offered as he hopped out of the Jeep. He glanced at his house before turning back to his friend with a small grin. "Thanks for coming today."

"Meh, don't sweat it," Stiles shrugged, waving him off. But Scott was insistent.

"No, really," he went on. "I mean, I know I should be kind of bummed that it wasn't just me and Allison, but I think it's good we went out in a group first. She had a nice time, and we've got another date lined up and… Thanks for making sure we could go."

"Dude, I'm your wingman," Stiles laughed, rolling his eyes. "It's what I do. Besides, it's not like I had anything better to do, or you asked me to do something crazy weird. Like, 'Woah, Stiles, I need you to eat food, help your friend get his girl and talk to this hot chick for me." They chuckled in unison, until Scott suddenly stopped, a smirk growing over his face.

"She was really happy you came," he informed him, raising his eyebrows in a slight, suggestive manner. Stiles's eyebrows also rose, though in confusion rather than teasing.

"What?"

"Sadie," Scott explained, that strange smile still in place. "She pretty much thanked me for bringing you. She really hates third wheeling, so you were kinda her hero." Stiles actually snorted.

"Please. I'm anything but," he scoffed, giving his best friend a pointed look. "She called the Jeep a Stalkermobile, dude."

"I'm just saying…" Scott drawled, holding his hands up with mock innocence. For some reason, Stiles found the gesture incredibly annoying.

"I know what you're saying, and no," Stiles bit defensively. "I mean, yes, she's hot and undeniably awesome, but…stop." He saw Scott deflate just the tiniest fraction before he shrugged, lifting his hands.

"Hey, anything for my wingman," he replied. It was supposed to be casual, but Stiles could see the subtle suggestion underneath as Scott brought the term "wingman" back to the table.

"Ha, cute," he replied dryly, narrowing his eyes. "Now wing your face out of my line of vision." Scott sighed, but relented. He waved him off and then turned on his heel, heading back to his own room so he could write a poem about Allison or sharpen his canines, or whatever the hell it was he did alone these days. Stiles tried to put the conversation out of his mind, watching Scott duck inside before he headed off towards his own house. Unfortunately, the mental peace didn't last for long.

He'd barely reached the end of the street when his phone vibrated in his pocket. He slouched in his seat, struggling to fish it out without taking his eyes off the road. He waited until he reached a stop sign to look down, sure that there weren't any cars impatiently waiting for him to move, and then opened the new text message.

_"Now you know when to answer. –Sadie Bennet"_

Stiles grinned down at the screen, bouncing the phone in his hand. He had her phone number. He had a girl's phone number, a popular girl's phone number, Lydia Martin's best friend's phone number. And she'd given it to him willingly, not just because she needed something. What alternate dimension was he suddenly living in?

Stiles tried to ignore any and all excitement as he tapped her number into his phone and saved it in his contacts. He had to stay calm. Because there was nothing to be excited about. Sure, she was attractive, and funny, and they had similar tastes in movies, but that was it. He couldn't really be friends with Sadie Bennet. He couldn't let himself.

Stiles had a policy about attractive girls. Or rather, he had a philosophy. It couldn't be a policy really, since he'd never had to act on it before. Fine then. Stiles had a philosophy about attractive girls. You don't befriend them. At all. Befriending hot girls was a dangerous, dangerous business that lead to a whole bunch of dangerous places that he didn't want to be.

It's not like he didn't think guys and girls could be friends. They could. Stiles had plenty of friends who were girls that he had no problem with. Okay, maybe not plenty, but it was a feasible thing. But Sadie was not any girl. Sadie belonged to the same class as Allison and Lydia, a higher class of aesthetically gifted females that any teenage boy wanted and became a fumbling idiot around. And you couldn't just befriend girls like that. There was no hanging out, because as soon as you started casually hanging out with a hot girl, you took yourself off the table. You put yourself in the comfort zone, threw yourself into the pile with brothers and gay best friends. And that pit was far too hard to climb out of. It happened all the time in movies, where the popular, hot person falls for the dweeby friend they've known forever, but Stiles was a realist. This was not a Blockbuster movie or hit television show. This was hard, cold reality, which meant no hot girls falling for nerdy guys.

Sure, Sadie was not Lydia. But he couldn't pick and choose which hot girls he could be friends with and which ones he couldn't. That was the whole point of having a policy in the first place. It was a blanket rule. Getting close to Sadie would start him down a slippery slope into the friend zone. Not just with her, but will all hot girls in general. And considering his track record with the female gender so far in life, he wasn't sure that was a gamble he could afford to make. In fact, he was adamantly sure that he could _not_ afford it. It would cause too many problems. He wouldn't do it.

Stiles jumped a bit as his phone went off in his hands, pulling him back to reality. He was still sitting at the stop sign, and while there were still no cars around, he figured it would be best to keep moving. He pulled through the intersection, chancing to open the message while the car was still in motion. Another text from Sadie.

_"BTW, keep your eyes on the road, Stilinski."_

Stiles smirked, shaking his head and tossing his phone into the passenger seat.

Of course, Sadie wasn't making it easy to_ not_ be friends with her. She was surprisingly easy to talk to considering her physique and social circle, and beyond that, she was generally and genuinely awesome. He was still trying to wrap his mind around the idea that he'd just had lunch with Lydia's best friend, and spent the meal talking about the filming techniques of classic monster flicks instead of stumbling over his words and drawing a blank for conversation topics. She'd invited him to her party, and then actually spent time with him there, letting him get her a drink and then listening to him ramble about the intricacies of the online gaming community he was a part of. Even the virtual battling of mythical creatures hadn't seemed to scare her away just yet. She joked with him at the lacrosse game, held up a conversation at lunch, willingly gave him her phone number. He didn't want to look a gift horse in the mouth, but it all seemed a little too good to be true.

Of course, this was all strictly platonic. Not that he'd ever been good at flirting, or been flirted with, but he was pretty sure that wasn't what was happening here. And since she was only interested in being his friend, it'd be dangerous to comply.

Then again, he liked Lydia. He'd always liked Lydia. And if he wanted to have a successful relationship with Lydia, he'd eventually have to be friends with her friends, especially close ones like Sadie. So what if he started making friends before he was romantically obligated to by a relationship? Maybe if he was friends with Sadie, Lydia would actually notice him, and she would be attracted to him. But he didn't want to think about it like that. That sounded like he was using Sadie, which wasn't what he was trying to do. He just had the honesty and common sense to recognize that there were certain perks to being associated with her.

Besides, he'd already told Scott he'd help keep an eye on her to keep her safe. And since she was Allison's best friend, and he was Scott's, they'd probably be seeing a lot of each other. There was really no way to avoid her, so there wasn't any harm in being friendly, right? But he wouldn't get too close. Just an acquaintance. Anyone they were close to was bound to get dragged into this whole werewolf mess, and that was what he was trying to prevent her from doing with Derek. He could only get close enough to Sadie to keep her out of harm's way. He knew it wasn't going to be easy, but any closer than that and she would start asking questions, and he couldn't let that happen.

Before he could stop himself, his eyes slid over to the passenger seat again. He eyed the cellphone, Sadie's name still shining brightly on the screen, and his lips tugged up into a smirk.

Yeah. This was going to be _very_ not easy.

**A/N: Hello, hello, hello! I am SO sorry that this took so long to get up. I've been drowning in homework, and it literally felt like my soul was crumbling because I hadn't written in over a week. But! I'm caught up on my work for now, and I have a pretty good map of the one shots I want to do. As should come as no surprise, it wound up being a lot more than the four I originally planned. Another thing to check out, I put up a video on my blog answer some questions about what's happening in the sequel, so be sure to go look! If you guys have other questions, feel free to send them to me!**

**So, I really wanted to write this chapter to explain Stiles's mind set. There's a reason that this story is a slow burn, and it's because Stiles is a one-woman kind of man. It takes him a long time to fall for Sadie and admit it. He talks a little bit about being friends with hot girls in episode 3, and I wanted to expand on that idea about how he's wary of Sadie and why.**

**Anyway, I hope you guys liked it, and hopefully the next chapter will be up a lot sooner! Let me know what you think!**

**-Brittney**


	4. A Little Different

**Chapter 4 - A Little Different**

"And there was blood everywhere, and Allison was screaming, and I was morphed and like roaring, and then I just woke up!"

"So you killed her?" Stiles replied simply. They were just walking into school, and he had unknowingly agreed to listen to the plot of whatever nightmare had woken Scott up this morning. He had to admit, he was a little disappointed. Not that gore and horror wasn't cool under most circumstances, but when Scott had come running up to him panting about the dream he'd had, Stiles was hoping for something a little more interesting, something hot or ridiculously bizarre. But no. It'd just been more werewolf stuff. Typical.

"I don't know," Scott sighed. He sounded at least a little calmer now that he'd shared his terror with someone, though he was still very clearly freaked. "I just woke up. And I was sweating like crazy and I couldn't breathe. I've never had a dream where I woke up like that before."

"Really? I have," Stiles chirped. "Usually ends a little differently." He smirked, letting his mind stray back to the glorious dream that he'd had last night.

He was used to waking up hot and bothered in the middle of the night, but last night had been a little different even for him. It hadn't been one of his recurring dreams, the ones that usually featured him and Lydia Martin in the locker room, or his bedroom, or the pool. The pool one was his favorite. But last night it hadn't been just him and Lydia, and if he was being honest with himself, it was a nice change. A very, _very,_ **_very_**nice change. He'd been thoroughly content being slammed back into a desk, smothered by fiery red hair and looking up into sultry, chocolaty-brown eyes. Needless to say, he'd been extremely frustrated when his alarm went off, and had to spend a long stretch of time in a cold shower as a result.

"Actually yesterday…" he began to share, but a sudden shadow next to him made him look to his right. A large pair of chocolaty-brown eyes were staring him down, delicate eyebrows raised half in amusement and half in disgust. He froze. "Sadie! Hi!" he squeaked in terror. She narrowed her eyes in suspicion, picking up on his strained voice, and he quickly ducked his head. His eyes roamed over her body, taking slight reassurance in the long sleeved sweater, boots and skirt. It was short, sure, but least it was part of her own outfit. It was definitely _not_ one of the tantalizing school uniforms she and Lydia had been barely wearing in his fantasy, which meant that he was definitely awake. Whether or not that was a good thing, he hadn't decided yet.

"Never mind," she decided, breaking him out of his thoughts. "I don't want to be part of this conversation." Stiles's mouth gaped open and closed uncontrollably. How much had she heard? How much had he even said? Had he slipped up and said any of that out loud? He was pretty sure that he hadn't, considering that Sadie had chosen to politely excuse herself instead of sprinting away to puke. Scott was even laughing.

"Hold on," he chuckled, before turning mischievous eyes to his best friend. "A, I meant I've never had a dream that felt that real, and B, never give anyone that much detail about you in bed again."

"Noted," Stiles agreed, and gulped. He shot Sadie's skirt one more glance before looking away altogether. Why did she have to be wearing a pleated skirt?

"What's up?" Scott asked Sadie, who raised her eyebrows pointedly as a reply.

"What's up with Derek?" she snapped. Scott and Stiles shared a dismal look before both looked forward, trying to ignore the brunette's anger.

"I'm not sure," Scott admitted carefully. "I haven't spoken to him yet."

"Well come on, Scott!" she growled, arms flailing wildly before anchoring over her chest. She was practically marching now, heels clacking dangerously on the hard floor as she glared at them. "What are you waiting for?!"

"I'm sorry!" he whined, hands squeezing his backpack straps tightly. "It's just…Derek doesn't exactly want to see either of us right now…"

"I thought that he wanted gain your trust?" Sadie pointed out suspiciously.

"He did—does!" Scott corrected himself hastily, but the girl was already glaring.

"God, what did you two do?" she groaned. Stiles felt his eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline in disbelief, finally turning to look at her once more now that he was focused on the problem at hand.

"What did we do?!" he yelped. "This—This guy is potentially stalking you for no reason and you wanna know what we did to upset him?" Sadie pursed her painted lips, narrowing her eyes at him once more.

"When it's getting in the way of me finding out why Derek's interested in me, yes!" They glared at each other evenly for a few seconds before Scott's uneasy mumbling broke their trance.

"We may have…accidentally gotten him thrown in jail for something the police say he didn't do…" Thankfully, the gravity of the situation seemed to have frozen Sadie for a moment, giving Stiles time to double the strength of his glare and turn to his best friend.

"Dude!" he protested. That was entirely too much information to give Sadie. They were trying to keep her out of the mess, not intrigue her by letting her know they were investigating murders. Or rather, upset her. Stiles didn't even have another second to open his mouth before Sadie stopped dead, whirling around to look at Scott.

"You what?!" she screeched. Stiles flinched, and was momentarily thankful he hadn't gotten the brunt of the yell. Scott was positively cowering in front of her.

"It was an accident!" he attempted to explain. "It-It looks like he'd killed this girl, and the police are convinced he didn't do it, but…!"

"Wait," she cut him off darkly. She looked furious, positively teeming with that dangerous anger that bubbles right below the surface before someone explodes. Stiles had to contain a yelp as she grabbed his shoulder, yanking him around to face her. Scott trembled next to him, similarly trapped. "You thought this Derek guy killed a girl and didn't think that was a relevant fact to bring up when you found out that he knows where I live and work?! And then you tell me not to worry about it?!" Scott and Stiles couldn't even share a look of fear, both too terrified by the feral look on Sadie's face. She glared between them both, chocolaty eyes darkening with rage. "Look," she spat, and Stiles took in a sharp breath as she grabbed a fistful of his shirt and forcefully pulling him closer. "I don't care if you think he killed that girl or not. You two are going to get over whatever the _fuck_ is wrong between you and Derek Hale, and you're going to find out what's up. And then you're gonna tell me. Got it?" Stiles nodded furiously, almost entranced by the order. "Good. I'll see you in English." Sadie roughly released them both, leaving Stiles to stumble slightly as she stormed past him, heels still clicking.

"Damnit," Scott groaned, running a hand through his hair. Stiles didn't reply. He still hadn't moved. He was staring down the hallway, watching Sadie's hair fly angrily behind her as she strutted away, and one of his hands absently feeling the creases her fist had left in the front of his shirt. Scott did a double take when he saw his friend's stricken face. "Hey, you okay?"

"Well, she's…" Stiles paused as Sadie's figure retreated from sight, actually swallowing thickly. "…angry…" He saw Scott nod once or twice out of the corner of his eye before he turned in sudden realization.

"Dude! No!"

"What?!" Stiles squawked, his eyes tearing back to his friend's face. Scott was glaring at him, more incredulous than actually upset.

"Don't think about it!"

"D-Don't think about what? What am I thinking about? I'm not thinking about anything!" he defended quickly. Scott cocked an eyebrow skeptically.

"Right," he scoffed. "So you weren't fantasizing about Sadie when she's angry?"

"Wh-? Pft!" Stiles laughed nervously, which only made Scott cross his arms over his chest. His laughter slowly ebbed away, traded for a nervous flush and a hand scratching at the back of his neck. "What?!" he snapped defensively. "It's the first time I've heard her use the word _'fuck'_ and I'm already hormonally compromised because last night I had this really, really vivid dream where she and Lydia…!"

"Stiles!" Scott yelped with wide eyes. "I—I—No! Stop talking! I don't want to hear about it!"

"God you are the worst!" Stiles groaned, stomping a foot in frustration. Scott merely rolled his eyes, fixing him with another scowl.

"Look, can we deal with the more important things right now?" he begged. "Like the fact that I mentally tore my girlfriend limb from limb last night with my werewolf claws?!"

"Yeah," Stiles deflated, rubbing a hand down his face. "Yeah, that's probably more important." He shook himself off, trying to shake away his previous mind set. Scott was talking about important, life-or-death situations, and Stiles had to help him. That meant trying to control his more primal, hormonal urges. No thinking about the threesome dream. No thinking about Sadie grabbing him by his shirt and pulling him toward her, screaming orders into his face. And definitely no embellishing or rethinking of his previous dreams now that he knew exactly what it sounded like when Sadie said _"fuck."_

Now was the time for werewolf business. His other thoughts would just have to wait for bedtime.

**A/N: Whoops my hand slipped and I wrote two chapters today. Sorry for the long wait. These are short so I'm going to try and crank them out. Don't forget to tell me what you think!**

**-Brittney**


	5. Benefit of the Doubt

**Chapter 5 - Benefit of the Doubt - Stiles**

"You don't need to worry about anything." It wasn't true of course, but it was a phrase that rolled off the tongue. An easy, blanket lie that people had been using for years and years, for things a lot less important than this. I was tired of saying it already, but I knew everything was far from over. Somehow, I managed to keep my face almost completely passive as Sadie's jaw dropped.

"Oh really?" she taunted skeptically, glaring up at me from her seat on the floor. "Well what if I'm worried about Lydia, hm? Stiles, she's my best friend, and right now she's breaking down just a couple yards away. I know that you care and you're worried about her, so just think! I'm around her a lot more than you are." That hit me in the stomach like a freight train. Not just because she'd felt the need to remind me that Lydia was drugged up and passed out from post-traumatic stress a few doors down from her room, but because I knew exactly what Sadie was trying to do. It was the same thing she'd done to get me over to her house—use my crush on Lydia against me. I'd fallen for it the first time—too worried about Lydia's mental state and excited to be in her house to care that Sadie wanted to grill me for answers. But this? This was completely different. This was Sadie using Lydia's safety as a bargaining chip. This was Sadie trying to suggest that I was so desperate for her best friend that I would literally throw her to the wolves to keep Lydia safe. She thought that I was completely capable of putting Lydia's safety over her well being, and what was worse, she was willing to agree. She knew something was up, knew that it was something dangerous that was getting people killed. And she was ready to dive in head first without a thought so she could get her footing and help her friend. "If you tell me what's going on I can do everything possible to keep her safe, and…!"

"You know," I cut her off harshly, "despite what you may think, I care about other people besides Lydia. I don't want you to get hurt! I don't need you involved in this!"

The room was silent after the outburst, and I realized that I should probably be trying to keep my voice down. My chest was heaving as I glared down at Sadie. How could she possibly be smart enough to notice everything that was going on, and then be so stupid as to actually want to get involved? Scott and I had spent weeks trying to keep an eye on her, trying to explain away everything she noticed—the bus attack, Derek showing up to school with a wolfsbane bullet in his arm, her getting attacked at the video store. It'd just been lie upon lie, and frankly, it was exhausting. And now she was trying to make all of my efforts pointless by forcing herself into the middle of the problem anyway. If I was being honest with myself, which was something I tried not to do too often, it wasn't just that I didn't need her involved. In fact, I just needed her to not be involved, to be safe. Because at the moment, I wasn't sure my conscience could take it if she got hurt because of something I told her, if _anyone_ got hurt because I said anything. I wished I could convince her to just take a step back, that there were some things she was just better off not knowing about. But Sadie had never been okay with not knowing, not from the moment I'd asked to check out some books on werewolves, before she even knew my name. And all that determination was clear on her face as she peered up at me from between her lashes on the floor.

"Involved?" she repeated, and the quiet sincerity of her voice felt like a punch to the gut. "Stiles, you're my friend. You're in love with Lydia, who is my_ best_ friend. Scott is my friend, and he's dating Allison who is _also_ my friend. Derek Hale just so happens to know who I am, where I live and where I work, and he seems pretty keen on attacking Jackson, who believe it or not is my friend too. And then last night, this thing attacked me and two of my friends and it could have killed me, but for some reason decided not to…" She trailed off for a moment, letting out a pitifully tired sigh. "Stiles…I don't think I can get much more involved…"

If that was supposed to make me feel better, it definitely didn't work. If anything, Sadie's little speech made me feel even worse. I knew what she was trying to say—that she didn't blame me, and that it wasn't my fault. Even if I didn't tell her, she'd eventually get dragged in because of Allison, or because of Lydia, or because of Jackson. But, in a way, that was my fault anyway. All of it was my fault, because when it came down to it, I was the reason Scott had gotten turned into a werewolf. All of this started because I wanted to see some stupid body and I dragged my best friend out into the woods and then left him alone. That made me responsible. People were getting hurt, and I had to do something about it. Maybe in that way, Sadie was right. Scott might have been the werewolf, but I was one of the only people in town who knew what was going on. It was driving me insane, knowing that I had to do something but not really having the power to do anything, and not being able to talk to anyone about it. And now here was Sadie, sitting in front of me and asking to be let in.

I took a minute to look at her—not just a scan of her body, but to actually look at her. I saw how she was sitting on the floor, her legs curled up underneath her and her free arm tucked in tight, like she was trying to become as small as possible. I knew it was probably because of the attack, that she was subconsciously making herself a smaller target. She didn't have on heels like she usually did, like Lydia always did, but a beat up pair of Converse, something she was probably more comfortable in, safer. I noticed her shirt, how she'd chosen one that was ruffle-y to make it look like she was trying, but black to blend in with her sling, so people might not notice right away. It pulled up slightly over the waistline of her jeans, but instead of ogling the exposed skin like I had before, I looked at the purpling bruises she was trying to hide on her hip. Her shoulder was bruised too, at least the part I could see between the sling and her sleeve. My eyes flicked up to her face, noticing how tired she really was. She hadn't been able to put on a lot of makeup because of her crippled arm, and normally that would have been fine, but today it exposed the dark bags under her eyes. I knew that Lydia had woken her up screaming, but I knew Sadie couldn't have been sleeping all that well in the first place. Not after a huge-ass werewolf had thrown her into a car. I eyed the small bandage on her forehead, just holding the skin together where it'd split from the impact. No. Sadie probably hadn't slept well at all.

I'd always felt like I had to protect her from what was really going on. But the problem was that Sadie was too smart to just believe the lies. Over the past couple weeks, because of her brains or determination or our slip-ups or random coincidences, she'd gotten way too close to figuring out the real answer. Practically all I had to do at this point was give her the right word. I thought back to the promise I'd made myself after Scott, Allison, Sadie and I had all gone out to lunch. _'Don't let her get too close, or she'll get too involved.'_ Well, that plan had completely backfired. I knew I'd failed miserably in_ not _becoming her friend, and then she'd gotten attacked in a completely unpredictable incident. She was right. She was already too involved. So maybe…maybe at this point, the only way to keep her safe was to make sure she was prepared. Maybe knowing what was out there was really her best shot.

I suppressed a groan, tearing my eyes away from her and looking up towards the ceiling, to the walls, anywhere but her face. I hated making these decisions. Decision-making was the worst. Why was I, of all people, being forced to make such important decisions in the tenth grade?

I slumped forward, before pulling out my phone and checking for a message from Scott in vain. Of course there was none. I glanced over at Sadie again, who was watching me patiently and timidly. It was like she knew she'd cracked me, and didn't want to say a word in case I changed my mind again. How she knew exactly what was going on in my head was a mystery to me, and almost a little unsettling. I looked away, distracting myself by making one last ditch effort to call Scott before I did anything drastic.

"Hey, it's me," I sighed when Scott neglected to pick up yet again. "Look… I don't know what you want me to do, man. I'm here with Sadie still, and… I gotta do something. Just… Call me back. Please." Resigned, I disconnected, staring down at it for a few seconds as if that would make it light up with Scott's reply. Obviously, it didn't. I glanced at Sadie again, her timid but determined face. She was already suspicious. She'd already gotten hurt. The best thing I could do at this point was to make sure it didn't happen again. And that meant making sure she was prepared for what was really out there, knowing what she was up against. I had to tell her what was going on.

I held in a groan as my resolve finally snapped. I slipped the phone back into my pocket and walked over to Sadie, holding out a hand so I could help her up. It was probably going to be a long conversation, and while it definitely one of those you-might-want-to-sit-down things, it was probably better that she wasn't on the floor for the next however many hours it took to convince her. She just blinked up at me for a few seconds, and it almost killed me how innocent she looked.

"Come on," I urged, brandishing my hand to make the point. Slowly, she unwrapped her uninjured arm and grabbed my hand so I could pull her up to her feet. At a loss for what else to do, I dragged over to her bed, forcing her to plop down on the edge before I skittered over to the door. I quickly stuck my head out to check that the coast was clear. I knew Lydia was down for the count, but I had no idea how to explain away the conversation I was about to have if Mrs. Martin or Mrs. Bennet walked by. Thankfully, the hallway was empty, which meant that I could just shut the door and get down to business. I turned back to Sadie, opened my mouth to speak, and stopped short.

What the hell was I supposed to do now?

Great. Finally decide to tell her, and I didn't have a fucking clue what I was supposed to say. How did you just convince people that werewolves existed? I had the evidence, but even Scott hadn't believed me until he was too morphed to deny it. And Scott was my best friend. He was supposed to believe me on principal. But Sadie… Not only had I only known her for a few weeks, but she was also way out of my league. Sure, she liked the same monster movies I did, but that didn't mean she was ready to believe she was living one. She might have been suspicious, but I doubted she was desperate enough to consider the paranormal. So where did I start?

"Okay," I sighed, several minutes of frantic pacing later. I turned to her, but couldn't bring myself to actually look her in the eyes just yet. "Why don't you… Just tell me exactly why you think it's not a mountain lion. Exactly." Good. That was a good starting point. Figure out what she already suspected and work from there.

"Too big," she replied almost immediately. "And a mountain lion wouldn't have just slashed the clerk's throat and left. That's not what wild animals do." Her voice was even and steady, and I figured it was probably a speech she'd delivered over and over in her head, trying to make sense of everything. "Jackson seemed pretty convinced that it knocked the shelves over on purpose," she went on. "And then it was standing right behind him, breathing down his neck, and it just decided not to kill him. It could have killed me too, but when it crashed through the window it just sat there staring at me. And it wasn't lunging like a cougar, it was… It was like crouching. One hand between its legs and one behind it, like it—like it was squatting. And then it didn't come at me with its claws. It had the ability to knock me aside with one limb, like it just swung its arm. And then, you know… I'm pretty sure mountain lions don't have glowing red eyes…" I could hear her voice shake slightly towards the end, knew she had to be terrified by what she saw. But knowing wasn't going to make her feel any better. Finding out what it really was just meant finding out just how dangerous this whole thing really was, how much more dangerous it was going to get.

I turned to look out the window, chewing painfully on my bottom lip. There wasn't a guarantee of safety for anyone, but at least I could take away her fear of uncertainty.

"What if I told you…that it wasn't a wild animal…exactly?" I asked, picking my words slowly. I had no idea where I was going with this. I'd never imagined having to tell anyone about werewolves, and if I had, I would have imagined Scott with me. But right now I just felt like I was drowning, thrown in the water without knowing how to swim.

"Okay," Sadie allowed. "Then what was it?"

Okay. This was it. All I had to do was say it. She sounded pretty calm and reasonable, and she knew that something was off, that it wasn't normal. I just had to look at her and say it. Just say it. So I turned to her and stared into those big, apprehensive, brown eyes. I opened my mouth, and she raised her eyebrows slightly in expectation.

"Shit," I deflated, dropping my gaze once more and spinning away from her. What the fuck was I doing?

She was never gonna believe me. I was going to tell her and she was going to shoot me down in an instant. Throw me out of the house like the crazy, stalking lunatic she thought I was. I was gonna be in deep shit. Even if she did believe me I was gonna be in deep shit. How was I supposed to tell Sadie that there were werewolves running around slaughtering people and that I knew about it without implicating Scott? If I was telling her about werewolves, shouldn't I tell her about _all_ the werewolves? But I couldn't just tell her my best friend's deepest, darkest secret without asking him first, right? I mean, this wasn't just hiding who he had a crush on or that he'd cheated on a test. This was revealing that he was a fucking werewolf. But I had to tell her. Scott could hate me for it, but I had to tell her. Eventually. And eventually, Scott would get over it. Just like I would eventually get over the fact that he wasn't answering his goddamn phone and left me to deal with this on my own.

I took another deep breath. Okay. Reason it out. She had to know.

"Okay, okay," I started up again, determined to make my point. "You said it—it was crouching, right? Like a human?"

"Kinda," she conceded, shrugging her shoulders. "And it didn't have paws, either. It almost looked like just hands with claws." I nodded, preparing for the moment of impact. And then I dropped the bomb.

"Right, so um… What… What would you say if I told you…it was a werewolf?"

I winced before she even answered, watching her through scrunched eyes and holding my breath. Sadie stared at me blankly, her face completely void of emotion, positive or negative.

"A werewolf?" she repeated plainly. I gulped, tossing my head to the side slightly.

"Yeah, what would you say if I told you that it was a werewolf?" I went back to holding my breath, watching her every move closely. The way her eyebrows rose slightly and then knitted together a fraction. The way her eyelashes fluttered as she blinked in rapid procession. The way her lips parted, twitching as she started a sentence two or three times before thinking better of it.

"I'd say that's pretty hard to believe," she replied finally. I'd been expecting it, trying to prepare myself for what I knew was the most likely answer. Still, having that tiny bit of hope yanked away from my felt like a slap in the face. My whole body relaxed. No. That wasn't the right word. I slumped, like taking away the chance she'd believe me had taken physical chunks out of me and I was collapsing in to replace them.

"Yeah," I breathed, dropping my eyes to my shoes in disappointment. "Of course you would." Without really thinking about it, I turned and walked to the far end of the room. Now what? She'd shut down the truth, and I couldn't blame her. Did I keep trying to convince her it was something supernatural, or did I come up with another outrageous lie to feed her? I didn't want to lie. I was so fucking sick of lying. But what else was there when no one wanted to listen to the truth?

Before I could make a decision, Sadie's voice floated across the room to me once more, cutting off the dismal train of thought.

"And then…I'd ask you why that's what you thought it was."

I froze mid step, slowly turning on the spot to look at her. She looked serious. Tentative, maybe. Skeptical, sure. But she didn't look like she was screwing with me. Breath started filling my chest again as my eyes widened.

"Seriously?" I prompted. She licked her lips slightly and nodded. "You're not gonna just…yell at me, or kick me out or like…push me against a wall and try to punch me?"

"No," Sadie replied immediately, sitting up straighter and actually looking like she was concerned. "You're my friend, Stiles." I let out a short bark of laughter, thinking back to how Scott had reacted when I'd tried to tell him he was a werewolf.

"That wouldn't stop most people," I said bitterly. Sadie softened for a moment, and I shifted under her probing stare.

"Well, you seem weirdly serious about this," she explained. "And you're not_ that_ good of an actor."

"Oh, thank you," I replied sardonically, but Sadie hardly batted an eye.

"You're welcome. So," she continued without missing a beat, "I'm giving you a chance to explain yourself. If you're right, I gave you the benefit of the doubt and if you're wrong…well at least I'll have the details of your delusion so I can tell the psychiatrists when they chuck you in the nut house." And then she smiled. She actually smiled. I told her that I was convinced there were werewolves running around killing people, and not only did she have the patience to hear me out, but she was smiling.

I was breathing slowly and shallowly, but as far as I was consciously aware, everything in the world had completely stopped. Sadie was ready to believe me. Maybe she didn't yet, but she had distinctly said the words "if you're right." Maybe that didn't seem like the most likely option at the moment, but she was willing to admit that it was there. I could be right. Everything she had even known about the world could be wrong, and if it was, she would accept it and agree with me. My own best friend hadn't been willing to agree to that. Scott hadn't even let me explain the entire theory before he shut me down, almost knocked me out, and then stormed out of the house. And now here was Sadie Bennet, the popular girl, friends with Lydia Martin, friends with Jackson Whittemore, friends with everyone important and important to everyone else. She was pretty, she was smart, she was witty, she was stubborn, she was interesting, and to top it all off, she was willing to listen to me as I tried to convince her that the thing that had bashed her into a car the night before was a werewolf. I think it goes without saying that I was floored.

I tried to start a sentence a few times, but didn't seem to be able to manage it. Sadie was still grinning at me timidly, and none of the words I wanted to use really seemed strong enough. I wanted to tell her how thankful I was that she was willing to listen, even if she didn't wind up believing me, because I had to get some of this stuff off my chest before I imploded. I wanted to tell her how amazing I currently thought she was for doing something for a weedy guy she'd known for a few weeks when his best friend wouldn't have taken him seriously. I wanted to tell her that she was probably fucking crazy for listening for me, for still wanting to hear the answer after "werewolf" was the only one I could provide, and that I was kind of happy that she was. But all of that sounded weird and hard to put into words. I was already trying to convince her of the impossible. It was probably best to not push my luck by trying to make an emotional declaration that would only make her feel awkward and less likely to listen.

"So you think this thing that attacked me is a werewolf?" she pressed, voice snapping me back into reality. Right. She wanted to listen. Which meant that this was the part where I was supposed to start talking.

I pushed all my feelings down—the nervousness, the relief, the fear, the happiness. I could finally talk about it. Even if Sadie didn't believe me, she was going to let me talk about it, to let out all of the thoughts and emotions that I'd been keeping pent up since Scott and I had gone for a fun, little adventure in the woods. And that's all I could ask for really. That's all I needed. I just needed someone to listen to me. Maybe then, I wouldn't go completely out of my mind.

"Uh, yeah. It's an Alpha."

**A/N: Hallo! So this one's a little more intense, but when I was rereading the story, I thought it'd be an important one to do. Major step in their relationship, finding out about werewolves is. I hope you enjoyed it! Let me know what you think!**

**-Brittney**


	6. Drunk Words Are Sober Thoughts

**Chapter 6 - Drunk Words Are Sober Thoughts**

Scott McCall was currently experiencing one of the worst weeks of his life. He'd gotten caught skipping school, gotten into a huge fight with his best friend, had his biggest secret discovered by his girlfriend's best friend, gotten pelted with lacrosse balls, been pummeled by seniors, gotten detention, watched his werewolf mentor beat his boss to a pulp, then watched the same werewolf mentor get speared and presumably killed by another werewolf, been chased around his school in the dead of night, almost been forced to kill all of his friends, and then been dumped. To say that he was miserable would probably be the biggest understatement he could possibly imagine.

There were currently only two bright spots in his life that were stopping him from crumbling. One of them was Stiles, who had finally forgiven him for not saving the sheriff from his minor car accident. He'd tortured him for a little while on Wednesday, of course, but since then Stiles had been right by his side and ready to support him, whether they were running for their lives from a murderous Alpha, or stuffing their faces so Scott could think about something besides his girlfriend. Or, at least temporarily, his _ex_-girlfriend.

The other bright spot, much to Scott's surprise, was Sadie Bennet. Sure, they were friends, and he'd known that she was super nice, but he had originally just thought of her as his girlfriend's—_ex_-girlfriend's—best friend. That's why he'd been a little puzzled when she showed up in his bedroom a week ago, and even more surprised when she decided to stick around, even offered to help him, even though she'd found out that he was a werewolf. It was that interaction that had really shown him how incredible Sadie was. She'd been smart enough to follow the clues, determined enough to make his best friend tell her what was going on, and then been kind enough to accept him despite what he was. Unlike most sane people, she had no qualms about looking past the werewolf part of him and focusing on the teenage boy instead. She hadn't freaked out or been afraid of him, because she didn't think he was a dangerous person, and for that he was eternally grateful.

And if Sadie's acceptance of him hadn't been surprising enough, she'd downright demanded to help. She'd forced him and Stiles to clean up their act, and then walked into a dangerous situation with her head held high, despite the fact that she'd only really known what was going on for a few days. After the initial shock, she'd actually saved their asses with her quick thinking, another thing that made him thankful. Having Sadie as someone else to talk to about, as she'd put it, his "condition" was actually really nice, he'd decided. She'd done incredible amounts of research and reading in order to help, and had the clear, unbiased point of view of someone who hadn't been involved from the get-go. Scott had really meant it when he'd thanked Stiles for telling her.

When Allison had insisted that they take a break in their relationship, he hadn't really spared a thought as to how it would affect his friendship with Sadie. He'd been too heartbroken to really spare a thought for anything except Allison. But when she'd shown up at his house over the weekend, tentative smile on her face and arms full of take out, he was almost as surprised as he'd been when she'd told him she was okay with the fact he was a freaking werewolf. Obviously it would've made sense for her to stop talking to him. She'd been friends with Allison first, and he was pretty sure there was something in the girl code that went against talking to people who hurt your friends. Then again, he didn't exactly speak Girl, so he wasn't one hundred percent sure.

Whether it was in the girl code or not, Sadie had somehow managed to navigate herself into the delicate position of being friends with both Allison and Scott. She'd gone from having a girls' night sleepover to crashing his guy-fest with Stiles, and done so seamlessly of her own free will. He was pretty sure Stiles hadn't known she was coming either, since he'd been trying to cheer Scott up with porn, which had to be quickly stuffed between the couch cushions before Sadie could see it. Either way, Scott was glad she'd come. Together, Sadie and Stiles had been able to distract him from his misery for a few hours. It was the only time he'd really smiled all weekend.

Even so, Scott was unsalvageably despondent. He appreciated Stiles's efforts to cheer him up, but he just didn't feel like talking about his problems. He didn't want to be consoled. He didn't want to get over it. He just wanted Allison back. That was the only way to really take the pain away.

Nevertheless, he'd let Stiles drag him out for one more night of fun before school re-opened the next morning. Of course, drinking himself dumb wasn't really Scott's idea of fun right now, but it was a way to spend time out of the house with Stiles, and away from his extremely concerned mother. If nothing else, Stiles was pretty amusing when he was drunk. And tonight, he was already totally smashed.

"Dude," Stiles slurred, collapsing onto his back and just managing to keep his head from smashing into the rocks. He placed the bottle of Jack Daniels down beside him, already half empty despite the relatively short amount of time they'd been out. "She's just one…one girl! You know, there are so many… There are so many other girls in the sea!" Scott glanced down at his friend briefly before returning to stare at the fire pit they'd made out of a garbage can.

"Fish in the sea," he corrected moodily, watching the flames dance around.

"Fish?" Stiles repeated with wide eyes. "Why are you talking about fish? I'm talking about girls!" He sighed dreamily, and Scott crossed his arms over his chest. Stiles could be funny when he was drunk, but he also seemed to have forgotten that he was supposed to be distracting Scott from the female gender, instead of choosing to talk about nothing else. "I love girls," he mused with a stupid grin on his face. "I love 'em! I love especially ones with strawberry blonde hair…green eyes…five foot three…"

"Like Lydia?" Scott offered blandly.

"Yeah, exactly," Stiles replied, lifting his head up in surprise. "How did you know I was talking about…? About…" He trailed off, his eyes sliding from Scott up to the dark sky and scattered stars. "What was I talking about?" he giggled, and Scott rolled his eyes. Stiles seemed to catch the gesture though, and began swatting his leg feebly. "Hey, you're not happy!" he observed. "Take a drink!"

"I don't want anymore," Scott sighed, making Stiles put the bottle back down with a loud clink.

"You're not drunk?" he slurred. Scott pursed his lips. He wasn't drunk. He was too upset to be drunk. He was too upset to feel anything other than the sinking, compressing feeling in his chest that made him feel like he was slowly dying.

"I'm not anything," he murmured. Stiles flopped onto his back again, tilting his head back so he could watch Scott with glazed eyes.

"Hey! Maybe it's like—Maybe it's like not needing your inhaler anymore, you know?" he offered. "Maybe you can't get drunk…as a wolf…" He trailed off again, eyes sliding in an out of focus. "Am I drunk?" Scott repressed a snort, finally looking down at his friend and shaking his head.

"You're wasted," he assured him, making Stiles's face break in to a huge grin.

"Yeah!" he cheered. He held his arm up with a fist, waiting to bump Scott, but he refused to respond. Stiles's arm dropped back to his side with a resigned sigh. He took another swig from the bottle, spilling slightly over his face since he refused to fully sit up.

Scott looked away, turning back to stare at the flames as they licked the sides of the garbage can. He had to get Allison back. He had no idea how he was going to do it, but he had to. Her words just played in a loop in his head.

_"You've been lying all night."_

_"Don't call, Scott."_

_"I don't feel like I can trust you anymore."_

Of course, she couldn't trust him. Not in the way she wanted to, at least. She could trust him to protect her with everything he had. She could trust that he really did love her. She could trust that he loved her smile, and that it made his day whenever he could make her laugh. But she couldn't trust him to tell her everything. How could he? How could he tell her that he was a werewolf when she came from a family that killed them for a living? She might already know that they existed, hiding her training from him just like he was hiding his abilities from her. Or maybe she didn't know. Maybe if he told her first, she'd be able to understand, like Sadie had understood. But if he told her about werewolves, he'd half to tell her about her family. It was only fair. And he couldn't tell her about that without putting her in the position where she had to choose between her family, and her family's enemy—him. He'd always hated _Romeo and Juliet_, but it looked like that was what his life was shaping out to be. Why couldn't things be simpler?

He suddenly realized, after several minutes lost in his thoughts, that it'd gone completely quiet. He and Stiles had been sitting in silence for who knew how long, which was weird when they were both sober. And usually when Stiles was drunk, it was literally impossible to get him to shut up. But right now he was still on his back, eyes staring up into the night sky without really seeing anything. Scott turned to him with concern. He knew he was smashed, but he really hoped he wasn't seriously sick or hurt. Scott didn't want to add Stiles's hospitalization down to his list of shitty things that week, especially when he'd been trying to make him feel better.

As if sensing Scott's thoughts, Stiles let his head loll to the side, focusing on him with a troubled look. Scott let out a deep breath. Apparently, Stiles had been just as lost in his thoughts as he'd been.

"I can't get her out of my head, Scott," he whined suddenly, breaking the silence. Scott sighed but turned to face him full on. He kind of hated it when Stiles ranted about Lydia, but he knew he subjected Stiles to the same sort of torture when he went on about Allison. Besides, listening to Stiles complain about his life would at least distract him from thinking about how much his own life currently sucked.

"I know, man," Scott attempted to console, but his voice was flat and monotone.

"I mean, she's just so freaking pretty," Stiles rambled on, screwing up his face as if thinking about her literally caused him pain. "And she has that like blinding smile that makes me forget what I was gonna say, and these big, big eyes with—with really long eyelashes, and it's really distracting cause I feel like I just can't talk to her, you know?"

"Uh huh."

"And she's always wearing these skirts that make her legs look really long, and it's like—like I'm not supposed to be looking at her legs! I'm—I'm 'posed to be looking at her face…when she talks…" He dropped his head back to the rocks, wincing as it made a dull thud.

"Yup," Scott agreed half-heartedly. He did know the feeling. Allison had this one really nice V-neck shirt, and when she wore the right bra with it, he could hardly keep his eyes on her face. In fact…

"And that's another thing!" Stiles was saying. "It's like, I can't even feel okay about it because I know that I should be listening to her! Because she always listens to me, you know? Like—Like when I was talking to her at the hospital, or—or when I was talking to her in her room, or any of the time she always listens to me. She listens to everyone, and it's just—it's so nice. Why does she have to be so nice?"

That made Scott stop short. He raised an eyebrow looking down at his friend in apprehension again. Maybe he'd hit his head harder than he though. Stiles talked about Lydia a lot, but usually he was sober enough to know that "nice" was not one of the best words to describe her. But before he could question it, Stiles was going off again.

"And—And she's funny too!" he said urgently. "And sarcastic and sassy and—and sometimes she thinks I'm funny, and—and I'll say something, you know? I'll say something sarcastic, and you usually just like roll your eyes or something, or people glare at me, but when I say something sarcastic to her she just smiles or she laughs. She's—She's got this really cute laugh where she kinda like—she like shuts her eyes and ducks her head or something, and—and her nose crinkles up and she giggles and it's just… I like it when she laughs. And—And I like it when she makes me laugh! Or when she corrects me about something and just kinda—she just kinda smirks because she wants me to know that I'm wrong but that she's not annoyed about it or something. Scott, did—did you know that she's really smart?"

"Um, yeah," he agreed slowly. He knew that Lydia was probably the smartest girl in their grade, if not the whole school. Stiles liked to talk about how good she was at math, and how she was going to be valedictorian. He had no idea what he meant by Lydia smirking when she corrected him. If she ever spoke to him about anything, he would've imagined her face more like a sneer, or maybe a grimace. But if Stiles was drunk enough to delude himself that Lydia thought he was funny, Scott wasn't about to bring him down.

"God, she's so smart," Stiles sighed, rolling onto his side so he could face Scott. "She just—She knows the answers to like everything and she doesn't even have to try! It's like…her head is just this giant huge encyc—encyclopedy-thing. Because she's so smart. She's like—she's like life-smart. Like, she knows what she's supposed to do and what she's supposed to say and how she's supposed to act and—and she just knows, man. Like, she knows how people work and why they work and what they… I don't—I don't even know… She's a lot smarter than me, cause—cause I can be pretty stupid."

He snorted drunkenly. Scott wanted to laugh too, but he couldn't quite manage it. He just stared at Stiles in concern. When he talked about Lydia, he usually had a sort of script. He didn't know it, but Scott had heard the same facts about Lydia in the same order with only slight variations in adjectives for several years. Tonight, Stiles was way, way off script.

"Sometimes—Sometimes I like, I don't even know if she's real, you know? Cause like, she's smart and she's pretty and she's brave." When he saw Scott's shocked expression, he flailed slightly, trying to get up but not currently coordinated enough to do so. "No, really!" he insisted. "She's like super brave. I know _you_ might not think so, cause of the stuff you deal with and whatever, but she's not used to that! And she just does stuff and tries to stay calm and rational and doesn't—doesn't think twice about it. Cause it's scary, but she's protective of people. She's like—She's like a superhero! Sort of… I mean, you're more like a superhero, or you're supposed to be, but—but she kind of is… And she likes superheroes. That's another thing I like about her. That she likes superheroes. Do you 'member that time she talked about superheroes?" Scott shook his head. He definitely could not remember a single time Lydia Martin had stooped to talk about something as nerdy as superheroes. "O-Oh, okay well—well that was a thing!" Stiles insisted. "That was a thing that happened! And it was like, super attractive. Cause I didn't think she knew anything about stuff like that, cause you know, you look at her and you don't think that she would know anything about stuff like that because she's hot. But then she started talking and she did! And she knows—she knows about movies and she knows about monsters and she knows about music and she knows about movies…wait I…I think I already said that… D-Did I already say that…?"

He trailed off, flopping back onto his back as Scott stared at him quizzically. Stiles was either way more drunk than it was safe to be, or he'd finally cracked and gone off the deep end. Scott was sure Lydia did know a thing or two about music and movies, but nothing that would excite Stiles. He wasn't really sure what was going on at the moment.

"Anyway, the comic book thing was attractive," Stiles picked up, as if he'd never stopped speaking. "Like one second it was normal levels of attraction and the next it was like _'WOOOAH'_ through the roof levels of attraction. And I kinda got caught thinking about her in like—in like a Batgirl costume or something? Cause like…shit man, that would be hot. I—I really have to learn to control my thoughts around her, cause it's gonna get really awkward like really fast. Cause I just, like I can't turn off my brain, you know?" Scott nodded absent-mindedly, still watching his friend with narrowed eyes. "And I keep dreaming about her, and then I see her in reality and I just flashback to whatever dream-her was doing, but dream-her is not real-her and then sometimes I forget that—that I'm talking to real-her and not dream-her and I have to stop myself from thinking about dream-her before I freak real-her out." Scott shook his head, trying to follow the sentence that Stiles had spewed out at the speed of light, but he hadn't been able to piece together all of the prefixed pronouns before Stiles went off again. "Like last night! Fuck… I mean, I know that—that you told me that I'm not supposed to tall you what I think about when I'm in bed or like, what happens when I dream, but like, it's hard man." Stiles hiccupped and subsided into a giggle fit. "N-Not—Not _that_ hard… Well, I mean, obviously_ that_ hard too, but I mean like, diff—difficu…"

"Difficult?" Scott offered hesitantly.

"Yeah!" Stiles cheered. "That! Because I mean, I had a pretty vivid imagination before, but—but ever since she did that thing, I just…"

"Thing?" Scott repeated. "What thing?"

"Y-You know," Stiles waved him off airily. "The—The key thing."

"What key thing?" Scott pressed, now completely lost. Stiles eyes widened and he shook his head slightly in disbelief.

"The key thing where she stuck her hand down my pants, Scott!" Scott felt his mouth open and close like a fish, completely wordless. Either Stiles had forgotten to tell him something very, very important, or the conversation they were currently having was one Scott hadn't realized the real topic of. Before he could form a sentence, Stiles rambled on. "I mean, I'm really proud of my overactive imaginy-ation thing, but I've never had something like that happen to me before. I mean, she pushed me into a wall, and she was like pressed up against me, and I could feel—I could feel her chest, and then she slid her hand into my pocket and it was like my brain fucking exploded. I—I mean, like, she just slipped her hand into my pants and she was breathing on my neck and do you—do you know how close her hand was to my dick? It was really close, Scott. It was really fucking close, like closer than any hand has ever been before besides mine. And I like—I didn't even notice she took my keys cause the whole time I was just thinking, 'You know, not what I was expecting but totally, totally worth it. Like, I really hope she's giving me a sorry-we're-about-to-die handjob right now, because that would totally be the best way to go.'"

"Woah, woah, woah!" Scott finally burst, waving his hands in front of him violently. "Handjob?! Stiles, what the hell are you talking about?!" Stiles raised his eyebrows and stared at Scott as if he was the dumbest person he'd ever seen.

"Well, Scott," he giggled, letting out another hiccup. "A handjob is when someone takes their hands and…"

"No!" Scott groaned, cutting off his explanation. "Seriously, dude! _Who_ are you talking about?!" Stiles furrowed his brow and dropped onto his back once more, looking at Scott upside down.

"I'm talking about Sadie," he said, as if that were obvious. "Who did you think I was talking about?"

Scott felt his eyebrows disappear under his hair. He knew that Stiles was attracted to Sadie, sure. He was his best friend. It was his job to notice those things. Plus, he could hear Stiles's heartbeat, how it jumped a little whenever Sadie showed up, or when he took the time to look over her outfit. But he'd generally dismissed it as Stiles's normal reaction to attractive girls. He wasn't used to being friends with females, and he saw Sadie a lot more than he was used to. But besides a few joked he'd cracked, which Stiles had dismissed, Scott had never paused to think about how Stiles might actually feel about her. He wouldn't have guessed it would merit a ten-minute speech so passionate that Scott thought he was talking about the girl he'd had a crush on for the last seven years.

"Honestly?" Scott replied. "I thought you were just talking about Lydia again." He saw Stiles's eye sparkle a little bit at the name as he tried to sit up.

"Lydia? Yeah, I can talk about Lydia. I mean she's just so…"

"No, no, no!" Scott cut him off frantically. "No, let's keep talking about Sadie!"

"Oh, okay," Stiles agreed easily, giving up on the sitting position so he was sprawled out unevenly over the rocks. Scott let out a sigh of relief.

He'd always tried to encourage Stiles in his pursuit of the queen bee. Okay, maybe not encourage him, but he'd actively tried to not discourage him. It wasn't because he thought Lydia was too good for him, or out of his league. He'd just always seemed to put her on a bit of a pedestal. Scott could see that Lydia had some good qualities, but she also had some pretty major character flaws. She could be shallow, vindictive, arrogant, manipulative, and sometimes just downright scary. Stiles had always been willing to look past that. And Scott thought that was nice, after all no one was perfect, but Stiles was almost too willing to let it slide. Scott had almost lost hope that eventually, Stiles might find someone a little better for him. And apparently, there was a chance he'd found that in Sadie Bennet.

That thought actually made Scott perk up slightly. He was still miserable, but not maybe it wasn't such of an understatement. He knew, of course, that Sadie liked Stiles. She was in total denial about it, but he'd been able to heartbeat since he met her, and he'd begun to notice how each time she saw Stiles, it beat it a little louder than the last time she'd seen him. He would have been willing to pass it off in the same way he had with Stiles, if it hadn't been for her trip to his house to play video games. By that point he was looking for it. He could see her flirting with him, see her blush when they hugged for just a second too long, even if he hadn't heard her heart skip a beat. But just to be sure, he'd called her out on it. Her wide eyes and heart rate spiking as she pretended there was nothing abnormal about her heartbeat had confirmed it, though. Whether or not she knew it, Sadie was attracted to Stiles. And judging by the way his best friend's heart had been trilling as he watched her leave the room, the hand she'd been holding reaching up to touch the spot where she'd tapped him on the cheek, Stiles was pretty attracted to her too.

"Uh, sorry man," Scott apologized, turning to face his friend on the ground. "I mean, I had no idea you liked her."

"Yeah," Stiles sighed forlornly, before his eyes widened. "No! I mean…I—I don't know. I don't know what I mean."

"Well," Scott chuckled. "You were just ranting about how amazing she is for like ten minutes, dude. I'm pretty sure you like her."

"Scotty," he whined. "Things—Things are just not that simple. They're not that simple, man."

"What's not simple about it?"

"Lydia!" Stiles reminded him desperately. "I still like her. Like a lot. Like I'm still in like with Lydia."

"You mean you're still attracted to Lydia," Scott corrected hopefully, but Stiles rocked his head back and forth on the stone, a wide, flowing denial.

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no," he chanted. "Das different. That—That just means I think she'd pretty. Which she is, you know, she's so pretty, but she's also so smart and so mean and so strong. _That's_ why I'm in like with her."

"Okay?" Scott replied, knitting his eyebrows together. "But, you said that you thought of Sadie like that too. You said she was really smart and funny and nice and brave and stuff so… Are you, uh…'in like' with her too?"

"Maybe," Stiles groaned, pressing his cheek into the smooth stone slab beneath him. Scott's face broke out into a grin. Even if he hadn't completely accepted the idea yet, Stiles had admitted there was at least a possibility that he could like Sadie just as much as he liked Lydia, and that was major progress. Unfortunately, Scott's smile was wiped off his face by his friend's next words. "I don't know. It doesn't r-really matter anyway."

"Wh-What?" Scott asked quickly. "Why wouldn't that matter?"

"Because Sadie's my friend," he explained in a childish voice. "She's hot and she's awesome, but she's my friend so it doesn't matter."

"Why?" Scott demanded. "If you guys are friends and you like the same things and you get along, doesn't that just mean you're even better for each other?"

"Ha! No," Stiles responded, pushing himself up onto his elbows and letting his head loll back so he could look at the stars. "What it means is that we've spent too much time with Sadie for her to consider us as anything other than her bros. We're probably drowning in the deep end of the friend-zone at this point. Not that it matters to you or anything."

"I-I don't think that's true," Scott stammered. "I think you could still do it."

"Scott," Stiles snorted, "she came over to play video games with us. How many girls do you know that pig out and play video games with guys they're interested in dating? You know—Don't—Don't answer that. The answer's zero."

_"No!"_ Scott wanted to yell. _"One! And it's Sadie! She_ totally _likes you and you_ totally_ like her and you two should_ totally _be together and you should _totally_ do something about it like right now!" _But he knew that he couldn't do that. Because that would violate his friendship with Sadie. He thought back to what she'd said to him when he realized that he loved Allison.

_"I'm here for advice, and I'm playing both sides, but your feelings for her are between you two. You tell her in your own time, and you can deal with it then. I promise, I'm not gonna say anything."_

And she hadn't. Of course, maybe if he'd told Allison how he felt, he wouldn't currently be sitting in a field trying to drink to forget her, but that was beside the point. The point was that Sadie had kept her word to him. And what kind of a friend would it make him if he told Stiles about Sadie's feelings for him before she was ready to deal with him? Before she was ready to deal with her feelings herself? It would make him a _terrible_ friend. And considering how much shit Sadie had already gone through being his friend, he felt like he had to do something to return the favor. But how did you get two people together without telling them that they liked each other?

Scott looked down at his forlorn best friend, splayed out on the ground with his limb thrown hap hazardously in all directions. He was staring up at the sky again, mumbling to himself so quietly that even Scott couldn't quite catch what he was saying. He could hear the words "Lydia" and "Sadie," along with "smile," "hair," and "skirt." Scott pursed his lips as he watched Stiles's frame shiver. Personally, he couldn't really feel the cold anymore, but he imagined Stiles must be freezing, even with the fire and the alcohol in his system. It was pretty late, and they'd been out for hours on a particularly chilly night. It almost felt like winter.

Scott's eyes suddenly widened as an idea struck him, and he looked from the fire back to Stiles.

"Why don't you ask her to the winter formal?"

"Wha?" Stiles attempted to ask, tilting his head back to look at Scott again. "Who?"

"Sadie," he replied patiently. "Ask her to the dance."

"Duuuude," Stiles dragged out. "Didn't you heeear what I was sayiiiing? I can't do it. It's—It's physically impossible for her to like me like that."

"_Duuuude,_ no it's not," Scott drawled mockingly. "Besides, being her date to the dance doesn't have to be a huge thing. Maybe it turns into something, maybe it doesn't, but at least you get her for the night." Stiles reached up to put his arms behind his head.

"I don't know," he sighed again. Scott rolled his eyes. He should have figured it was going to take a massive amount of convincing to get Stiles to do anything. He knew he was pretty self-conscious, that he didn't believe Sadie could ever like him because he wasn't good enough, not just because she only saw him as a friend. But Scott had to get him to ask her, and he had to do it while Stiles was drunk, otherwise he'd be entirely too aware and afraid of what he was doing.

"Okay," Scott sighed, ready for another attack. "How are you gonna feel if Lydia goes to formal with Jackson?"

"_If_ Lydia goes to the formal with Jackson?" Stiles replied skeptically. Scott shrugged his shoulders.

"Yeah. How would you feel?" Stiles groaned, pushing himself up into a sitting position and holding a hand to his head.

"I don't know. Normal? I mean, I'd be like disa…disappointed but it's not like I didn't know it was gonna happen anyway."

"Okay," Scott repeated with a nod. "And how are you gonna feel when Sadie, who is completely new and complete single, winds up getting asked to the dance by someone like Dylan Peters?" Stiles's jaw instantly locked at the name, and Scott cheered internally.

"Sadie hates Peters," Stiles practically growled. "She wouldn't go with him."

"That's not gonna stop him from asking," Scott pointed out. "And do you really think he's gonna take 'I just don't like you' as a decent response? She's never gonna hear the end of it."

"Then why don't you go with her?" Stiles bit bitterly. Scott pursed his lips again.

"Hopefully by formal I'll have Allison back." Stiles attempted to roll his eyes, but didn't have the control. He rolled his head instead, then let it sink into his hands as the world assumedly spun around him. "Look," Scott urged. "Sadie's closer with you than any other guy at school. Either you sit back and watch her go with some dumbass lacrosse dude Lydia picks out for her, or you can take her yourself. She has a great time because she likes spending time with you, you—you get her flowers, you guys dance, and she gets to look at you in a whole new way. Just ask her out."

Stiles was silent for several minutes after that. He stretched his arms back behind him, leaning back so he could look up at the nearly full moon. Scott could see the wheels turning in his head, see his imagination working as he pictured actually getting to take Sadie to the dance.

"You really think so?" he muttered a few minutes later.

"Stiles, I'm begging you," he implored. "Please ask Sadie to the dance." Stiles nodded slowly, each beat picking up the pace until he was waving his head around manically.

"Yeah," he agreed. "Yeeeaaah. I'll just ask her. Imma ask Sadie to the dance. Sadie's gonna be my date to the dance. How the fuck do I ask Sadie to the dance?" His hand shot out again quickly, grabbing the half empty bottle of whiskey and downing another dangerously large gulp. Scott snatched the bottle back. The last thing he needed was for Stiles to get sick and pass out.

"Dude, just call her okay?" he instructed. "Call her and say, uh, 'Hey Sadie. I was just thinking about you, and I wanted to know if you wanted to be my date for the winter formal.'"

"Right, 'kay," Stiles agreed, bobbing his head again. "Hiya Saaadie. I was—I was just talking to Scott about you—well about you and Lydia, cause you know…"

"No!" Scott groaned, smacking him on the shoulder. "Don't talk about Lydia. Just Sadie. You're asking Sadie to the formal because you want Sadie to be your date."

"Woah, yeah, right, yes," Stiles conceded, eyes crossing as he nodded again. "Okay. Imma call her. Where…Where is my phone?" Scott winced, running a hand through his hair as Stiles patted the ground around him.

"Right pants pocket, Stiles," he reminded him, making his friend beam.

"Heyyy yeah! Thanks, buddy." He pulled the phone out of his pocket, which Scott quickly grabbed from his hand. The last thing he needed was for Stiles to call the wrong person. He dialed Sadie's number, and then handed the phone back to his friend. Stiles tried to wink with a cheesy grin, and Scott shook his head. This was probably gonna be a disaster.

A few seconds later, Stiles pulled the phone away from his ear, staring down at it with a hurt expression.

"She didn't pick up!" he whined. Scott furrowed his brows.

"What? Why not?"

"I don't—ohhhhhhh," he realized, nodding sagely. "You know what? It's probably because she's out with Allison." Scott's stomach twisted at the name, but he tried to push the feeling down. Focus on Stiles and Sadie. "It's fine," Stiles dismissed, waving the phone and nearly tossing it aside. "I'll just ask her tomorrow."

"No!" Scott shouted. He knew full well that Stiles would probably kill him for convincing him to call Sadie when he was drunk, and he would never have the courage to ask her out sober. He had to do it now. "Just—Just call her again."

"Fiiiiine," Stiles sighed. He pressed redial and brought the phone back up to his ear. But this time, Sadie picked up.

_"Hello?"_ Scott heard her ask though the phone. Stiles's face broke into a huge grin.

"Saaaadiiiieee!" he cheered, making Scott rest his head in his hands again. "Hey! Sadie! We—We were just talking about you, Sadie! How did you know?!"

_"Stiles,"_ she sighed. _"You called me."_

"Oh!" Stiles piped, before falling onto his back in hysterics. Scott grabbed his shoulder, pushing him back up into a sitting position before Stiles batted his arm away. "You're right! I did! I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Sadie."

_"It's fine,"_ she assured him kindly. _"What's up?"_

"The sky!" Stiles giggled, and Scott resisted the urge to shove him again. "I'm out here with Scott! Scottay! Ha!" He held up his hand for another fist bump, which Scott ignored again, jabbing his finger at the phone. Stiles's face turned comically serious and he nodded dutifully.

_"How drunk are you two?"_ Sadie asked skeptically, and Stiles gave a loud snort.

"Me? Psh, I'm not drunk. I-I-I am completely sober!" He promptly hiccupped again, making Scott roll his eyes. "And—And Scott! Scott is so, so, so, so, so not drunk! He's—He's like not even tipsy! He had some, but he's like…he's like that guy who…who gets the super strength? And he drinks and drinks but his super metabolism is so far up that he burns up the alcohol and can't get drunk? The uh… The soldier guy…with the shield…"

_"Captain America?"_ Sadie offered, and Scott grinned. Good. She could talk about superheroes. That would keep him focused on her.

"Ah! Yes! Thank you, Sadie!" Stiles exclaimed with a grin. "I-I love it when you talk comic book. Can you talk more about comic books? That's like super awesome. I love it." Scott strained his ears, wishing he could hear heartbeats through the phone. Instead, all he heard was Sadie's reply.

_"Stiles, why are you calling me?"_

"Right!" Stiles chirped, getting back on topic. "Why…? Why…Why did I call you…?" His eyes widened as he pulled the phone away from his mouth and turned to Scott with fearful eyes. "Scott, why did I call Sadie?" Scott nearly glared, crossing his arms over his chest and taking a deep, controlling breath.

"You're asking her to be your date to the winter formal," he reminded him calmly, trying to keep his voice low. Stiles's eyes doubled in size as he nodded violently.

"Oh! Right! That's why I called you! I remember now, Sadie!"

_"That's great, Stiles," _she replied, and Scott thought she sounded a bit like a kindergarten teacher talking to her students. _"So why did you call me?"_

"Because we were talking about girls! Girls, right? Like, Scott was talking about Allison, and then I was talking about Lydia!" he cheered. Scott felt his stomach drop, but before he could stop him, Stiles rambled on. "B-Because you know, I-I love Lydia! You know? Cause she's so pretty and smart and sassy!"

_"Yeah, Stiles, I know,"_ Sadie replied dejectedly. Scott punched Stiles in the shoulder, making him squeal in pain.

"Stop talking about Lydia!" he hissed as Stiles grabbed at his shoulder.

"Ow! Scott, shush! I'm sorry!" he grumbled, then turned back to the phone. "Shh! Yeah! So I was talking about Lydia, and then I was talking about you!" There was a beat of dead silence on the other side of the phone, and Scott nearly sighed in relief. He'd pulled it back.

_"Oh?"_ Sadie choked out, and Stiles nodded.

"Yeah! Cause you're Lydia's best friend and you're amazing! And then Scott—Scott came up with this—this incredible idea!" Scott clenched his jaw again, wishing Stiles had been drunk enough to ramble just for a little bit about how pretty and smart and sassy he thought Sadie was, but at least they were getting to the point.

_"And what's that?"_

"Let's go to formal together!" Stiles cheered, throwing his arms up in the air.

The response wasn't immediate. In fact, for a moment, Scott thought Stiles might have accidentally disconnected the call. Sadie was silent, until a rustle on the other end finally prompted her into action.

_"S-Stiles, you're drunk,"_ she dismissed nervously.

"Nooo!" he whined. "And even if I was, it was Scott's idea so you know it's a good idea, and he's sober!"

_"Wow, that's comforting,"_ she shot sarcastically. _"Cause the plans you and Scott come up with when you're both sober are _great_."_ Stiles burst into another fit of laughter, looking fondly down at his phone before pulling himself back to earth.

"Sadie!" he sang. "Pleeeease be my date? We—We can take my Jeep and I'll get you flowers and I'll let you make me wear one of those things that match your dress or something and it will be lots and lots and lots of fun!" He paused, letting her take in the information as Scott grinned. Perfect. He'd done it. And then as usual, Stiles opened his mouth, and ruined everything. "Come on, Sadie! We'd be like the coolest couple there! We're friends so you have to!"

_"Friends?"_ she repeated, and Scott could literally hear the disappointment in her voice from miles away.

"Yeah!" Stiles shouted again. "You and Scott are like my best friends! And I'm not going with Scott, and I can't go with Lydia, so I wanna go with my other favorite girl in the universe!" Scott's jaw dropped in horror and anger. And Stiles was worried that Sadie was going to friend-zone him? He'd just told her straight out that he thought of her in the same way he thought of Scott, and Scott sincerely hoped that Stiles didn't feel the same way about him that he felt about Sadie. He groaned, letting his head sink into his arms as Stiles effectively shipwrecked the plan.

_"Well that was certainly charming,"_ Sadie bit, but Stiles missed the annoyance in her voice.

"Please, please, please," he was chanting. "Please, please, please…"

_"Alright!"_ she cut him off. _"Fine!"_

"Yes!" Stiles screeched, so loudly that Scott had to cover his ears, before he backpedaled. "Wait, no! You have to say it!"

_"What? Yes?"_ she asked with confusion. Stiles leaned back on his arms and threw his head up again, smile still blazing.

"Repeat after me! I, Sadie Bennet…"

_"No!"_ Sadie protested. _"Stiles, I'm not gonna…"_

"I, Sadie Bennet…!" he repeated louder. Scott heard her sigh reluctantly on the other line before grumbling along.

_"I, Sadie Bennet…"_

"Promise the amazing Stiles Stilinski…"

_"Stiles!"_

"Sadie!"

_"Ugh. Promise the amazing Stiles Stilinski…"_

"That I will be his date to the winter formal." She hesitated only for a moment.

_"…That I will be his date to the winter formal…"_ There was some sort of scuffle on her end of the line, but Scott couldn't make it out through Stiles's loud whooping.

"Wooh! I have a date to formal!"

_"Will that be all?" _she asked properly, making him giggle into the phone.

"Yes. Thank you, Sadie," he replied, staring down at his phone with a sickly sweet expression. Scott wished desperately that he could just take a picture and send it to Sadie. There was no way he could deny liking her when he looked like that.

_"Whatever,"_ she dismissed. _"Please go sleep off all that alcohol now."_

"Yes ma'am!" he agreed. "Buh-bye Bennet!"

_"Yeah. Later, Stilinski."_

"Hey! Hey, Sadie! I love—I love you!" he cheered, then pouted at the phone. "Oh. She hung up."

"Yeah," Scott agreed in slight annoyance. "Yeah, she did."

"Why did she hang up?" Stiles asked, scratching absent-mindedly at his forehead. Scott sighed, trying to resist the urge to slap him sober.

"Probably because you compared her me. And then, not only did you ask her as friends, you asked her as a last resort." Stiles flipped the phone in his hands, staring down at the ground.

"…Shit…" he muttered after a few seconds. "I…_really_ fucked that up…"

"Yeah," Scott confirmed. "You kinda did."

"Man, I need a drink," Stiles groaned, swiping the bottle of Jack Daniels back from the ground.

Scott forced a small smile onto his face. So Stiles had accidentally asked Sadie to the dance as friends. Even drunk he was too nervous to ask her out properly. But that was okay. At least they were going together. They had months before the dance. It would take a little work, sure. But Scott now had two missions in life. Get Allison back, and get Stiles and Sadie together. Then everyone could be happy.

**A/N: Whew! There you go everyone! The chapter you've all been waiting for! I'd like to point out that this is something I was never actually planning on writing this. It was just supposed to be a hint that Stiles might feel something for her, but it's now been written by popular demand. Damn you guys are persistent! Haha. So I hope that you enjoyed it. It came out a LOT longer than I was intending, but that's life. And this is the way my writing usually goes.**

**Let me know what you thiiiiink! It would please Drunk!Stiles immensely. ;)**

**-Brittney**


	7. A Girl's Best Friend

**Chapter 7 - A Girl's Best Friend - Lydia**

"Is there a reason we're not sitting with Allison and Jackson?" Sadie asked, eyeing me over the questionable cafeteria food on her lunch tray. I ignored the question, keeping my eyes glued on my boyfriend. At the moment, he was on the other side of the room, sitting with Allison and looking completely absorbed. He hadn't even looked up from the conversation once—not to see who was around, not to see if we were joining him, nothing. I narrowed my eyes, estimating the distance between them as far too close for me to be comfortable with. Jackson smiled at her.

"Jackson's been acting weird," I informed Sadie, twirling my fork in my hand, though my eyes remained on the target. "Jumpy, snarky…and he's been talking to Allison a lot."

"Okay?" Sadie asked, clearly not getting the gist. "Maybe because they're friends?" I finally moved my eyes away from Jackson, turning to look at the innocent brunette in front of me with a slight glare. Maybe it was because Sadie didn't have a boyfriend—had never had a boyfriend—but she didn't seem to grasp the concept that Jackson talking excessively to other girls was likely a symptom of a much larger, more dangerous problem.

"I don't mean just talking," I explained, trying to keep my voice low in case any passersby decided it would be a good idea to listen in on my relationship troubles. "Like concerned, emotional talking. Ever since Wednesday night." I was sure to specify the specific day, instead of bringing up the actual event of being hunted and cornered by a freaking serial killer. My life had become far too much like a horror film lately. I didn't like horror films. And I wasn't intending on reliving the experience anymore that I had to.

That at least seemed to get Sadie's attention. Her eyebrows arched up in surprise, before she quickly turned around to shoot Jackson and Allison another look. My eyes slid over again, just in time to watch Jackson slide his thumb over her lower lip. Allison raised an eyebrow just as Jackson pulled his hand back, sticking the thumb in his mouth to suck off whatever he'd wiped from her mouth. Allison giggled, and my eyes narrowed.

_The little traitor._ I wasn't sure if I meant Jackson or Allison at the moment, but it seemed like an appropriate phrase. I mean, neither of them were stupid. Jackson could be thick, and Allison took being an innocent little schoolgirl a bit too seriously, but they had to know that was completely unacceptable. Jackson was my boyfriend, and Allison was one of my best friends. Or she was supposed to be anyway. Invite her over for a deluxe boy-free glamour sleepover and what do I get back? Flirting with my boyfriend. I could feel my composure slipping, teetering on the edge between completely freaking out and completely breaking down.

"He's just trying to get a rise out of you," Sadie consoled. She placed a light, comforting hand on my free one, spotting my weakness and trying to cover it up the way best friends were actually supposed to. "It's not worth it to get upset." I took a deep breath. She was right, obviously. I wasn't going to let Jackson see that he was upsetting me that much, and I certainly wasn't going to show the rest of the school that I wasn't one hundred percent completely confident in the claim on my own boyfriend. So I snapped my eyes away from them, turning back to Sadie and my lunch with a full force, chipper attitude.

"Let's talk about something else," I demanded, stabbing the fork into my meal. "What were you and Stiles talking about?"

"Uh, you know, just plans and whatever," she answered vaguely, fixing her eyes on her own meal. I raised an eyebrow, easily recalling the nervous look on her weirdo friend's face when I'd rescued her from what must have been a borderline painful conversation.

"Plans?" I laughed. "Why do you have plans with Stiles Stilinski?"

"Because he's my date to the winter formal." I promptly dropped my utensils, hair flying as my head snapped up with wide eyes.

"What?!" I demanded. Sadie jumped in her seat, looking at me with huge, brown doe eyes full of alarm. Several other people had turned around at the outburst too, but I was too stunned to care.

No. No, no, no. She had not just what I thought she had just said. I was hallucinating. I was dreaming. I was having a terribly vivid nightmare. She hadn't just used those words. And if she did, she didn't mean them. They were code for something else. She'd slipped up and said a few different words instead. Or I'd completely missed the "it's not like it's" that was supposed to go at the beginning of the sentence. But Sadie was just sitting there and staring at me like a baby deer in the headlights, two seconds from being run over by her extremely on-edge best friend.

"What do you mean he's your date to the winter formal?" I asked quickly, hoping against hope to receive some sort, _any_ sort, of denial.

"I mean he's taking me to the winter formal?" She'd asked it as a question, already shrinking down in her seat in preparation for some sort of reprimand or beating. Which of course, was absolutely what she was going to get.

"Since when is he your date to the winter formal?!" I snapped.

"Uh, since yesterday," she mumbled. "He kinda drunk called me."

Yesterday? She had not just said yesterday. I knew my life was on the verge of spiraling out of control but I didn't think it was going so fast that my best friend had agreed to take an unauthorized lacrosse member to one of the most important social events of the year and then forgotten to tell me. That was just completely out of the question.

"You got a date to the winter formal and you didn't tell me?!" I jabbed. Sadie sighed, sinking even farther down in her seat.

"Lydia, he only asked me like last night. It's still ages away, and it hasn't come up."

"Last night is more than twelve hours ago!" I burst. "What happened to telling your best friend as soon as something interesting happened in your love life?!" Sadie's face fell slightly, morphing from aversion to a twinge of disappointment.

"Lyd, we're just going as friends," she informed me quietly. "It's not an actual date." I had to repress a snort. In my experience, "not an actual date" almost always turned out to be an actual date.

"A date is a date, platonic or not," I hissed, leaning forward over the table. "It is part of your love life and I am outraged that it didn't occur to you that this was pertinent information."

"Sorry," she whispered, running a sheepish hand through her hair. I pursed my lips, closing my eyes for a moment and concentrating on breathing through my nose. It had only been twelve hours. I could work with twelve hours. Sure, she hadn't come sprinting into my room the way I'd expected her to if she managed to get a date on her own, but the sheepishness was probably better than the outright fight that would have occurred trying to get her a proper suitor. Of course, this meant there was the trade off that she certainly did _not_ have a proper suitor to take her to her first important, school-organized social event since moving here.

"Stiles?!" I bemoaned in despair, making Sadie crack a smile. Her eyes flicked over to the boy in question, and I watched in disgust as the twitchy boy shoved a fistful of greasy, undercooked fries into his mouth. After a few attempts at chewing, he seemed to notice he was being watched. He looked up from his deserted table, lips straining awkwardly as he tried to smile at us and hold his poor excuse for food inside his mouth. He lifted one still-greasy hand in a wave. I scrunched up my nose, but Sadie laughed quietly across from me, returning the gesture with at least a little more class. I averted my eyes from the tragedy, turning back to my food. "Why Stiles of all people? If you were going to go with someone platonically why couldn't it be Matt? Ethan? Thomas?_ Literally_ anyone else?"

"Because Stiles asked me first," she replied. "Besides, he's a lot of fun."

Her tone of voice made me look up slowly. I knew that tone of voice. It was a very, very dangerous tone of voice. She had her chin sitting in one hand, elbow propped up on the table. Her other hand traced gentle, looping patterns on the table, a clear symptom of her current state of mind. And if that wasn't bad enough, her head was ducked down slightly, hair falling around her face, but not able to conceal the way she was smiling softly at the chipped tabletop, or the way her skin was naturally turning pink under the applied blush. I recognized the early signs of love sickness, all too familiar with the way Allison had been looking at Scott since school started, or how I felt when I was with Jackson. Or at least, how I used to feel with Jackson. But I mentally diverted my attention. There were other problems to be dealt with first.

"You do _not_ like him," I said, breaking the silence and making Sadie's head fly up so fast I was surprised she didn't have whiplash. Her eyes were wide with surprise and poorly masked terror.

"What? No!" she squeaked. "I said we're going as friends!"

"Just because he asked you as friends doesn't mean you have to want to go as friends," I pointed out. Her mouth opened and closed, frantically fighting for something to say. "Oh my God, Sadie, no. You do not like him."

"Fine! Okay! You're right!" she agreed, holding her hands up in submission. "I don't like him!" My jaw dropped.

"Don't lie to me!" I gasped, making Sadie's mouth hang open again.

"I'm not lying!" she protested. "Y-You just told me I don't like him!"

"That's like saying you're not allowed to like him," I hissed, waving off her ridiculous interpretation of my words and shaking my head, "which you obviously do."

"Nothing is obvious!" she squealed. I raised my eyebrows pointedly, internally wondering whether or not she realized that she'd just admitted that she had a crush by arguing that it wasn't obvious. Apparently, she didn't notice her own subconscious logic pattern, as she continued with a sigh. "Look, Lyd, even if I did like him, which I do not," she paused to lamely brandish a finger at me, "Stiles and I aren't getting together. He's great, but in case you haven't noticed, he really, really likes you."

I allowed myself to consider that point for about a millisecond. I'd never really bothered to pay much attention to Scott McCall's sidekick. He'd always seemed twitchy, shrill and annoying, though if Sadie's suspicions were true, at least some of the fidgeting could be attributed to his nerves whenever I was around. That was good to know. Not that I was considering him with a snowball's chance in hell, but it was always nice to have a proven, scientific reasoning for something. Maybe he was a little less weird around Sadie. Though I figured it was probably more the case that for some ridiculous and crazy reason, she didn't mind just how weird he was. And if she could put up with him, then maybe there was a shred of hope for him in this world after all. I didn't exactly like the idea of Sadie hooking up with a benchwarmer, but after knowing her for months, it was nice to see a stupid, silly smile on her face because of some guy. So I brushed off her point and held myself back from making any snarky comments about the Stilinski boy.

"Everyone likes me," I decided to declare with a smirk. "Doesn't stop them from dating each other." Sadie rolled her eyes, looking moodily down at her meal again.

"Trust me, we're not getting together. You have nothing to worry about."

"I have everything to worry about!" I replied adamantly, pushing my tray away from me slightly. "Your love life is one hundred and ten percent my business, and while you could do miles better—no—_light-years_ better than Stilinski, I'm happy you finally have something going on in that boring little life of yours." This time the reaction was slightly more positive. Sadie shook her head, but a grin crawled up over her mouth to replace the dejected look she'd been wearing previously.

"Can you please decide if you're happy or upset about this?"

"I'm trying!" I chirped, winking victoriously. "I'll let you know." Sadie rolled her eyes again in her trademark move, but couldn't shake the amused smile that my attitude always seemed to provoke.

"Sometimes I wonder why I'm friends with you," she shot light-heartedly, and I smiled.

A lot of the time, I wondered why I was friends with Sadie too. We were two utterly different people. I thought back to the moment she'd shown up in Beacon Hills at the beginning of the summer. I'd had mixed feelings about having strangers in the house. On the one hand, they were two completely new people that I'd never met in my life, regardless of how close my mother had been with Miss Claire in high school. It was a total invasion of privacy, and if I didn't like them, I knew my life was going to become a living hell. On the other, there was the tiniest chance that I could really like this Bennet girl. Mom had pulled out a couple of their family pictures she'd been sent from whenever. They were a little old, but I figured she didn't look too bad. So long as she'd grown out of that I-wear-denim-every-day phase and put a little bit of product in her hair, we might even get along. And Mom was continually preaching about how they were in a terrible situation and we'd gone through a lot of the same things, blah, blah, blah, support system, blah. Regardless, I had decided to give her a chance.

But when Miss Claire and Sadie Bennet showed up on our doorstep? I decided to drop all my previous expectations and go for "pleasant acquaintances" instead. I'd worn my cutest skirt for the occasion of their arrival, and gotten a face full of unfashionable taste when I'd walked into the room. She'd been wearing a pair of mangled jeans, beat up sneakers with complete tears on the inseam, a way oversized and tattered black band T-shirt and a sweatshirt that looked like it was attempting to swallow her whole. Her hair was piled up on top of her head in a careless, limp-looking bun, and she looked like she hadn't put much effort into her makeup. Apparently, making a good impression on her hosts had not been one of her top priorities. And after I'd caught the look of skeptical disdain she gave me, eyeing my neat skirt and scoop neck green blouse, "pleasant acquaintances" dropped to "hopefully tolerating."

I hadn't had to deal with her too much the first few weeks. Sadie spent most of her time locked in her room, playing music in an attempt to cover her crying. I usually only saw her at meals, which was ridiculously awkward. Miss Claire was nice enough, but she and my mother kept trying to make Sadie and I talk, like they were trying to recreate their high school friendship through us or something. I had to stay completely alert, as I usually spent dinner coming up with one reason or another why Sadie couldn't come out with my friends. I wasn't going to subject myself to snide remarks of a bitter, unpopular girl just because she was being forced to live with me. Furthermore, I wasn't going to let anyone else see me with her.

Luckily, Sadie didn't seem too keen on spending time with me either. Presumably, her mother was nagging her to try and get out of the depression-funk she was working. She did her part lying about unpacking, wanting to paint in her room, or not feeling well. She was a perfect actress, I had to give her that. A few times, she even fabricated memories of times we had spent together. Small things like, "Oh I was showing Lydia my movie collection today," or, "Lydia was letting me look through her wardrobe. It's really nice." Of course, I had no interest in her nerd movies, and she seemed to have little to no interest in learning reasonable fashion sense. But the lies did earn my respect, slightly. It was always interesting to hear what faux-interactions Sadie and I had been having during the day, when I was really out with Jackson or some of my other acquaintances. The most intriguing part was that, despite having spent almost no time with me, Sadie always seemed to come up with reasonable stories as to what I was doing. It was like she knew me, without ever really having to take the time to get to know me. And eventually, I found myself looking forward to the stories, playing along, even actually considering spending time with her.

And then we'd had our big heart to heart and everything started to change. I found her crying in her room, and even though I knew she'd been crying for weeks, it was so startlingly different from the composed actress I'd been seeing at the dinner table that something struck me. And I surprised both of us by staying. We ended up talking for hours, not about our problems really, but everything around our problems. The depressing heart to hearts came later, after we actually started watching movies together, going out to lunch, etcetera. But Sadie had taken me by surprise in just how real she was. I'd been mentally stereotyping her since she'd shown up. I hadn't taken the time to look past the nerdy movies in her collection to see that she also had a worn out copy of _Pearl Harbor_, or that her favorite mix CD was actually full of songs I really liked. We weren't the same by a long shot, but we had enough in common to get along. What I didn't share with Sadie, I at least understood and accepted. She was interesting, a look at something I had previously never gotten to examine. And maybe being so different was really why we got along so well.

By the end of the summer, I had come to the realization that I was closer with Sadie Bennet than I had been with anyone else in my life. She was witty and intuitive, understanding me on a level none of my other friends seemed to have reached. But she also stood up to me. If she thought that I was being mean or shallow, she called me out on it. It was a rude, uncomfortable wake up call, of course, but I found that I actually enjoyed being challenged. We fought and clashed occasionally, but fighting and then making up with Sadie was a lot better than the uncomfortable, submissive giggles of all the girls I knew who were too intimidated to tell me what they really thought of me, because I was the smartest and most popular girl in school. Sadie and I constantly called each other out and accepted each other's flaws. She let me give her a total makeover and introduce her to the popular crowd of Beacon Hills, and I respected that she was still Sadie, with all her little nerdy and insecure quirks that I would never really understand.

I obviously wasn't happy about the situations that Sadie and I had been put in. She'd lost her father and been completely uprooted from the place she grew up. I was still struggling more that I cared to admit with my parents' separation, with the fact that I'd basically had to tell them that I loved my mother more, and that my dad didn't care enough about us to stay. But I didn't have to admit it to Sadie. She just knew. Just like I knew about how much she missed her dad, and how she felt responsible for her mom and how insecure she was being the new girl for the first time. I wasn't happy about all the shit life had decided to put us through. But I was happy to have a best friend.

"You live with me," I reminded her with a bright smile. "You have to be."

**A/N: Aw! Besties! So, I had a little trouble with this chapter, and writing Lydia is kind of hard. I don't imagine her having much of a filter when it comes to more lighthearted conversations, so there wasn't much insight you needed to have. But someone had asked for Lydia's musings of how she and Sadie became friends, so I felt this was necessary. I'm not sure I really captured Lydia's sass and brains, but there you are.**

**Let me know what you think!**

**-Brittney**


	8. Sitting Still

**Chapter 8 - Sitting Still - Stiles**

"I swear to God, Stiles! If you move again, I'm gonna fucking kill you!"

"I'm sorry!" I yelped, as Sadie ripped the prosthetic off my face for about the tenth time. I thought it was awesome that she'd put in all the time and effort of making Scott and me costumes on top of her own, and I honestly wasn't trying to make it harder for her. But the silicon of the werewolf snout smelled weird, and the glue she was using smelled weird, and it was cold and pinched my skin in a weird way. I knew I'd be fine when it dried, but until then the entire process was just downright uncomfortable. "It itches!"

"It's gonna itch a lot more when I punch you in the face," she grumbled, wiping the glue off my face. It took everything I had not to smirk at her annoyance. I didn't want her to be angry, but at the same time, I really enjoyed watching her be angry. She threw the wipe away, picking up the glue and the snout one more time. "Okay," she sighed, obviously barely holding it together. "Let's try this again. Don't. Move." I decided not to even move my head to nod. I just took a deep breath and tried to stay motionless. Sadie leaned forward, inspecting the edges of the silicon closely as she pressed it against my cheek. I closed my eyes. It was ridiculously nerve-wracking having anyone this close to my face, especially a girl that I probably found too attractive for my own good. And then of course, there was the fact that since she was almost as tall as me, she had to bend pretty far over to do my makeup while she was standing, and even after about a month of knowing her, I wasn't ready to test my resolve about not looking down her shirt. So my eyes? Completely and utterly closed, for everyone's sake.

But sitting still with your eyes closed for minutes at a time could be really, really boring. I tried tapping out a rhythm on my leg, anything to keep me from going completely crazy. But the glue smelled funny, and Sadie's fingers were grazing my skin, and I could hear her breathing, and I had to keep my breath shallow because I didn't want her to get a face full of me breathing and it was a lot to think about at once. And then I twitched.

"You know what?! That's it!" Sadie declared. My eyes flew open at the outburst, watching as Sadie snapped upright, hair flying angrily around her.

Everything happened so quickly. It wasn't like the world went into slow motion, but more like my brain went into hyperdrive. I was trying not to laugh. Sadie put a hand on my shoulder and shoved me into the back of the chair. My instant reaction was to gulp. I already knew that angry, forceful Sadie was something that messed with _both_ my heads, and being this close to her while she shoved me around was terrifying and kinda amazing. But I immediately tried to push that thought down. The next thought was a little more realistic. She was probably going to punch me. I knew that she could pack a punch, and she was likely to be more than a little violent when she got angry. Twenty minutes of twitching and ruining her attempts at doing my makeup probably warranted a good right hook, or at least a slap. My face was already screwing up in preparation for the impact when she lifted one of her legs. My train of thought stalled for a second. Was she going to kick me in the head? A roundhouse kick to the face seemed a little extreme, even for angry Sadie Bennet. But then her torso shifted towards me, she started to lower her leg again, and I had less than a second to prepare for what was about to happen.

_Holy motherfucking lord._

I leaned back as far as I could in the chair, ripped my hands off where they'd been tapping on my legs, and let my jaw hang so far open I was surprised I couldn't feel my neck with my chin. This was not happening. Was this really happening? I was dreaming. I really needed to stop eating before I went to bed. Or—Or drinking. Or something. Clearly something had to change about my bedtime routine because this dream was entirely too real for me to be comfortable with. Or maybe I should keep doing exactly what I was doing and have this sort of dream every damn night. There was no way I was awake. I fell asleep in the living room, in the van, or maybe I was still in bed and Sadie hadn't even come to pick me up for Halloween yet. Because there was no way in reality that Sadie Bennet had voluntarily chosen to swing one leg over me and sit down on my lap.

But it felt real. Damn, that felt really goddamn real. I could feel her weight pressing into my legs, the way I actually had to exert some sort of force to keep her there. I could feel the warmth of her legs through my jeans, how she fit perfectly in the small space between my knees, one leg thrown on either side of my hips. I could feel her hand still on my shoulder, smell her perfume, hear her crystal clear as she leaned even closer to my face and ordered me to stop moving again. She was less than six inches away, almost as close as she'd been when she pinned me against the wall at school. Only this time our lives weren't in danger. Her hand wasn't over my mouth. Her hand wasn't reaching into my pocket, but instead she was straddling me, forcing my back into the chair and making me feel so warm, I was almost afraid we were both about to burst into flames.

Her large brown eyes were trained on the prosthetic at first, but then she seemed to notice just how still I'd gotten. Her eyelashes fluttered, her eyes moving from her hands up to meet my eyes. We stared at each other for a few solid seconds. I chanced a glance down at her lips, slightly parted as if she'd been just as surprised by what she'd done as I was. If that was possible. It probably wasn't. I couldn't think there was a single way possible that anyone on the planet was more surprised than I was about the fact that I had an attractive brunette girl sitting on my lap.

What the hell was she thinking? I mean, knew that she wanted me to stop moving, but sitting on me seemed a little extreme. Running with the crowd she usually did, she probably should have known better to sit on sexually deprived teenage boy's lap without warning. Then again, I wasn't complaining, and it was clearly very effective. I was definitely not moving anymore. My chest felt tight as I stopped breathing, my mouth open, and my hands hovering awkwardly over her thighs. I felt like my whole body was burning, and at first I thought it was just because of the added body heat of being sat on. But after a few terrifying seconds, I realized it was because I was physically holding myself back. I was pressing myself into the chair to keep myself away, mentally exhausting myself as I tried to keep my hands off her legs. This had to be real, I realized, because if this had been in my head we already would have been kissing. And part of me wanted to. When life tosses a hot brunette into your lap, you're not supposed to question it. There was a part of me that was all for hooking my hands under her knees and pulling her forward so I could kiss her. I had half a prosthetic flapping on my face, which would be the least of all reasons it would be awkward, but I was this close to not giving a fuck.

But this wasn't any hot brunette girl. This was Sadie. And Sadie was my friend. Which meant that while my subconscious occasionally slipped while I was sleeping, I really shouldn't be even considering her. Still…with her sitting this close to me, hair falling in her face and her mouth open like that…it was hard. Pun not intended, but acknowledged.

But before I could do anything about the situation, Sadie seemed to collect herself. She didn't spring off me, she didn't scrunch up her face, and she didn't crack a joke.

"Don't move," she repeated, just in a whisper. She was close enough now that I could literally feel the breath of her words on my mouth, and I pursed my lips together. And then she went right back to gluing on my snout, eyes trained on her work. She leaned forward to get a closer look, and while she wasn't quite pressed up against me, I could almost sense her chest inches away from pressing into mine. And thinking about that for the half a second I did was probably one of the riskiest decisions I ever made.

My eyes went wide and I pressed myself farther back into the chair, clenching my jaw closed. No. No, no, no. I wasn't thinking about what it would feel like to have her chest pressed into me. I wasn't thinking about how my hands could easily slide over her thighs. I wasn't thinking about how far up on my legs she was sitting. I wasn't and I couldn't think about it. Because this was already awkward, and the absolute last thing I needed on the planet right now was to start objectifying Sadie while she was sitting on my lap, in a prime spot to witness the boner I was about two seconds away from getting.

Nope. Nope. Nope. Not thinking about how I could feel it whenever her legs shifted. Not thinking about how her fingers were trailing much too close to my lips as she tried to glue down the snout under my nose. Not thinking about how her hair was occasionally tickling the side of my face as she leaned over me. I wasn't thinking about it. No Sadie. No boner. No awkward.

I tried closing my eyes for a second, and almost immediately forced them back open. Bad idea. Then I'd be focusing on exactly what I was feeling, and my brain would have to come up with some visual image of what was happening on its own and probably wouldn't come to the most accurate conclusion. I had to keep my eyes open to keep myself grounded in reality. And I also had to start focusing on the most unattractive things possible.

Sadie shifted slightly farther back on my legs, and while I was supremely grateful for the distance, the sensation almost made me groan out loud.

Oh yeah. She was not going to make this easy. It was going to be a really, _really_ long hour.

* * *

**A/N: Guess who had entirely too much fun writing this? God, I had so much fun writing this. Why is writing sexually frustrated Stiles so much fun? Anyway, I really hope you enjoyed it. A couple different people asked for it, so I hope it met your expectations.**

**I only got 3 reviews on the Lydia one, so please remember to let me know what you think! Thank you lovies!**

**-Brittney**


	9. What's New Pussycat?

**Chapter 9 - What's New Pussycat?**

By the time Stiles and Scott showed up to the Martin-Bennet household, the party was in full swing. They passed a few people that they recognized, but the Halloween party seemed to be a little more exclusive than Sadie's welcome party had been. About three quarters of the lacrosse team seemed to have shown up, as well as the rest of Lydia's clique and some people who must have done some major sucking up to get in. Not that the two of them were ones to talk. Apparently it'd taken Sadie hours of convincing to get Lydia to agree to invite them, though whether that was because of their unpopularity or the fact that Scott wasn't supposed to be anywhere around Allison, they weren't sure.

They passed through the house pretty quickly, moving into the backyard where most of the people were. There were red lights shining on the pool, and clouds of dry ice billowing over the surface. Sadie's decorations looked far more impressive by night than they had at nine o'clock in the morning. Stiles made a noise of approval through his werewolf fangs as surveyed the yard. Scott remained silent, but Stiles knew it was just because he was too busy looking for Allison to notice the kickass ambiance.

Stiles tucked his thumbs in his pockets, letting his eyes pan over the yard so he could survey the guest list. He immediately spotted Lydia and Jackson wrapped up in each other in a far corner of the yard. Jackson was clad in his lacrosse uniform, while Lydia's tiny witch hat had been knocked askew by one of her boyfriend's wandering hands, poufy skirt ruffled and tangled. Stiles quickly looked away. Of course she was already making out with Jackson. It was her Halloween party and she hadn't even wanted him there. He was only allowed on the premises because of Sadie.

That thought in mind, Stiles moved on to searching for the zombie farm girl he and Scott had left at Allison's house. But even after several minutes of searching, he hadn't caught a single glimpse of her torn dress or decaying makeup. He sighed, leaning heavily on one of the porch pillars. Maybe she'd just ducked inside.

"Aw, dude, check it out," he piped, hitting Scott lightly in the chest and nodding to the right. Danny was standing in the corner, eyes cast intently down and apparently reffing a round of bobbing for apples. Stiles recognized the grungy hair of Dylan Peters facing him, flailing awkwardly with his head dunked completely in the bucket of water. Not that that was the view he was thoroughly enjoying at the moment. Scott rolled his eyes and looked away, leaving Stiles to ogle the unfamiliar backside of the poor girl who was Dylan's opponent. Stiles felt his eyebrows rise appreciatively as the girl arched her back slightly, reaching farther into her bucket and making the end of her dress ride up the back of her thighs as the fabric tightened over her ass. Man, he really loved Halloween.

A moment later, she sprung to her feet, arms thrust into the air in victory. Stiles enthusiastically joined the smattering of applause, earning himself a disapproving look from Scott. But Stiles didn't mind. He was much too focused on the sleek black cat tail dangling down between the girl's legs as she dismissed Peters and high fived Danny. A sexy cat costume. Very classic, in his opinion. He could totally work with a girl in a sexy cat costume. He smirked to himself as he considered that train of thought for a moment, but then the fantasy came to a crashing halt.

Danny must have said something to the girl, because the next second she was spinning around to face them. Her deep brown hair and cat tail splayed around her as she twirled and Stiles found himself staring at a very familiar pair of chocolate brown eyes. The smirk slid off his face in an instant, and he heard Scott laugh next to him. The sexy cat was Sadie. He'd just been caught staring at Sadie's ass. God, he really hoped that he hadn't been caught staring at her ass. Why was Sadie dressed as a sexy cat? Why had the world decided to conspire against him and his hormones on his favorite holiday? What on Earth had possessed her to change from the impressive but non-enticing zombie costume into a tiny black dress and cat ears?

But he didn't have time to worry about it, as she was already heading toward them, taking long, graceful strides across the grass in her black pumps. She skipped up the steps, a bell around her neck jingling as she went. Stiles fought and failed to keep his mouth closed. She was wearing a fucking _collar._

"Hey, guys!" she greeted in a casual voice. One hand came up to tuck a wet strand of hair behind her human ear, then patted the cat ears to make sure they were still in place. "Glad you could make it."

"Yeah, well you invited us," Scott pointed out, gracefully swooping in to answer while Stiles tried to find his voice once more. "Have you seen…?"

"She's over by the snacks," Sadie cut him off, waving one hand off to some section of the yard that Stiles did not glance towards, though judging by the words that he was comprehending, it had something to do with Allison. "Do not talk to her, Scott."

"I'm not going to," he replied with a terrible attempt at sounding innocent. "I'm just gonna…" He trailed off, turning on his heel and high-tailing it away from the porch, leaving Stiles frightfully alone with a scantily clad, dripping wet Sadie Bennet and a head full of very colorful curse words for Scott when he got back. Sadie turned back to Stiles with a smile tugging at her lips, standing out from her face with bright red lipstick. He desperately tried to stop himself from licking his lips, and finally managed to force a few words out of them instead.

"Why…? You're…not a zombie…" Stiles kicked himself mentally. _Good job. No hello. No congratulations on your game. You're just not a zombie anymore. No shit, Sherlock._

"No," she agreed with a gentle laugh. "This is the Lydia Martin approved Halloween costume, actually. I think I looked better undead."

"No!" he exclaimed before he could stop himself, making Sadie raise her eyebrows. Stiles cleared his throat, trying to think of an appropriate way to amend the statement without totally creeping her out. "I mean, uh, no you look…" Stiles trailed off, at a complete loss for words as he stared at the girl in front of him.

It'd been so much easier to not think about how attractive Sadie was when she was dressed up for trick or treating, in a tattered dress and thick, decaying zombie makeup. She was his friend, and he wasn't supposed to think of her like that, but now… He felt like he couldn't let his eyes look at one place for too long, otherwise his imagination would kick into overdrive.

He couldn't scan up and down her stockings, black and sheer over smooth skin, with wet patches from where she'd been kneeling in the grass, almost as if she'd been—no.

He couldn't look at the hem of her tiny black dress, which dredged up the oh so recent memory of watching her bob for apples, bent over with the dress riding higher and higher until it nearly—no.

He couldn't stare at the sleek black fabric, the way it hugged her curves, how the neckline scooped dangerously low, drawing his eyes down so it was hard not to stare, making him want to lean in and—no.

He couldn't look at her damp hair, how the wet tips dragged over the dress straps, how it dripped a bead of water onto her skin where gravity pulled it down, down, until it disappeared into—no.

And he most certainly couldn't look at her cat ears, or the whiskers she'd painted on her face, or the thick, cherry red collar wrapped tightly around her neck. But that's where his eyes seemed to get trapped, at what was currently her most dangerous feature. The golden bell that hung off the front was shining in the dim porch light. It tinkled as she shifted ever so slightly, and his mind was lost.

Sadie's hair cascading down her back, chin yanked up with one forceful tug on her collar as he pulled her into a frantic, searing kiss.

Sadie's cat ears staying firmly in place as she mewled, eyes fluttering shut as he pressed her into her mattress, back upstairs and tucked away in her room.

Sadie's painted cat eyes remaining locked on his as her head moved slowly down his bare torso towards his happy trail, leaving maddening kitten licks over his skin, which already shining with salty sweat.

Sadie's neck straining against that infuriating, fucking collar, the bell ringing repeatedly, bouncing and jingling every time he…

**_NO!_** _**NO, NO, NO, NO,**__**NO!**_

Stiles gulped, wrenching his mind violently back into reality and tearing his eyes away from the cherry red collar and up to her face. Yes, her face was safe. Well, not entirely. She was still entirely too attractive for her own good—for _his_ good—with her painted lips and water droplets webbed between her dark eyelashes. But at least her face was a danger he'd been learning to deal with. He opened and closed his mouth, searching desperately for something to say.

"Um, your whiskers are kind of…uh, like smudged…"

"What?" she asked innocently. She raised a hand and let her fingers brush across her damp cheek, pulling back to look at the tinge of black staining her hand. "Oh, yeah. I was bobbing for apples."

"Yeah!" Stiles choked out, mentally warring with the image of Sadie's ass sticking up in the air. "Yes, I-I saw that." He tried to keep his entire body in check, but his eyes managed to stray down her body again, landing on the cat tail that was swaying back and forth between her thighs.

_No. Stop._

"Right. Well, I better wash this off," she chirped, making his eyes shoot back to her face. She smirked at him, shifting in her heels. "Enjoy the party!" She raised a hand to her mouth, teeth sinking into the flesh of the shining red apple she'd claimed as her war prize against Dylan Peters. She stayed still just long enough for Stiles to watch the way her lips dragged over the skin of the apple, her tongue darting out to catch a drop of the juice. And then she brushed right past him, strutting into the house with a new kind of confidence he'd never seen her with before. He watched her go, rooted to the spot and completely transfixed by the sway of her hips, the way her tail swung back and forth like a pendulum. He let out a long slow breath as he craned his neck, trying to keep her in sight for as long as he possibly could.

Just what the hell did she think she was doing? Did she _know_ what she was doing, the effect she had? Or was the dress really just something Lydia had forced her to change into? It was a plausible explanation. In which case, Stiles was going to have to thank Lydia profusely. Or sit her down and explain why should couldn't do shit like this. He wasn't sure which just yet. He'd decide later. On the one hand, he was generally all for seeing hot girls in sexy costumes, even if it was one of his friends. He couldn't really afford to be picky. On the other, he'd walked into the situation completely and utterly unprepared. He'd been expecting to find his friend, the girl he was _not_ supposed to be attracted to, in a zombie costume worthy of a Hollywood makeup trailer. And instead he'd gotten trapped, and Sadie had show up like—like some sort of sex kitten.

Shit. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He'd actually said that. He'd actually just said the words "sex kitten" in his head. He noticed how the jeans Sadie had given him for his werewolf costume suddenly seemed strained and far too tight, all his blood rushing south as the words rang though his mind on a loop. Well, there went any plan of remaining composed for the rest of the night.

He glanced back and forth around the mainly empty house. Scott was off chasing Allison, and no one else really seemed too keen on talking to him. He'd just…go to the bathroom for a few minutes…maybe a little longer…

The image of Sadie in the red collar flashed again in his mind, golden bell hanging in the dip in the center of her clavicle, shining with sweat in the dim light.

Yeah. Probably a lot longer.

**A/N: I'm almost sorry, but I'm actually not. I... I have no excuse for this. People asked for the straddle thing from Stiles point of view, and I think one person of many might have mentioned this. But it's my story. And I really have entirely too much fun writing all the perverted little thoughts Stiles has. Writing for the point of view of a sexually deprived sixteen year old boy with a vivid imagination is just a lot of fun. Sooo yeah. That's all I've really got.**

**I miss my reviewers. Thank you everyone for reading, and please remember to let me know what you think! Mwah!**

**-Brittney**


	10. That Damn Hat

**Chapter 10 - That Damn Hat - Stiles**

"Well, thank you for this incredibly exhausting and traumatizing night," Sadie teased as we pulled up to her house. She'd moved into the front seat after we'd dropped Scott off, and hadn't stopped rambling about our entire fiasco with Dr. Fenris since. She was pretending to be upset, but I was pretty sure it was mostly the ebbing shock and adrenaline talking.

"Hey, at least I drove," I offered. "And I'm not making you pay me for gas." Sadie rolled her eyes, slinging her purse over her shoulder and gracefully sliding out the passenger door of the Jeep.

"What a gentleman," she snorted, slamming the door behind her. She turned back around with a smirk, though, pausing to pat the door and give me a taunting glare through the open window. "Just try not to break any more laws between here and your house, 'kay hot shot?"

"Ha ha! Thank you, Sadie. You're very funny," I bit sarcastically. She simply winked and turned on her heel, long strides carrying her quickly towards the house. "You know—You know—Why don't you try to—to not break any laws, huh?" I called after her. "Between here and…your house…" If she heard my truly terrible excuse for a comeback, she didn't reply. Instead she sent me one more infuriating smirk and then ducked inside the front door. I stared at it for a few seconds, even after she was gone. "Great job, Stiles," I grumbled, drumming my hands on my steering wheel. "Try not to commit any felonies in the time it takes you to walk from my car to your front door, Sadie. That's real likely. Real smooth." I moodily kicked the car back into motion pulling out into the street at a respectable speed. I already had assault and breaking and entering charges under my belt for the night. The last thing I needed was for my dad to give me a speeding ticket.

I let out a long sigh as I thought through all the information we'd managed to get from Fenris. He was another one who said there was no cure for werewolves. Well, except his bright little joke about cutting people in half, which none of us had really found that cute. I had zero plans about cutting or letting someone else cut Scott in half. Originally, I'd also had zero plans about working with Derek in any way shape or form. Honestly, I was really annoyed that the guy wasn't dead. He was just a thousand different kinds of creepy, and the whole hulking and brooding thing didn't make me any keener to trust him. Scott figured that, since Derek was the only werewolf we knew, he was the expert on werewolves. Even if Fenris hadn't heard of a cure ever in his life after years and years of tireless research, Scott was willing to take the chance that Derek knew something he didn't just because he was born a werewolf. I thought that was probably one of the stupidest decisions ever in the history of creation, but I knew why he was doing it. He desperate for a cure, not just to get out of the whole time-of-the-month deal, but because being a werewolf meant not being with Allison. Or at least, not being with Allison easily. Scott was willing to risk working with Derek if it meant saving his relationship, and I knew that I was going to have to stand by Scott, if only to keep him from getting himself killed. Besides, Scott's hesitant trust of the stalker wolf was better than Sadie's completely baseless faith in him.

That was one of the things that bothered me most about him. I mean, obviously I was concerned in the broader sense because he was a freaking weirdo with claws who seemed just fine hurting and threatening people, but he'd also been weirdly interested in Sadie from the start. We'd never gotten a real answer from him about why he'd talked to her at the library, why he'd talked to her at school or said that he thought she should know about werewolves. Personally, I thought that would've been a big red warning flag, with flashing neon lights sewn to it, playing an obnoxious song really loudly, just in case we didn't happen to notice that he was dangerously obsessed with her. But Sadie had just brushed it all aside. She'd been all for working with Derek from the day I told her about werewolves, all "well he didn't bite Scott," and "he's just trying to help," and "you don't know that he's killed anyone." Which of course, was true, but you know—we didn't know that he hadn't killed anyone either. But she didn't care. And then, as if trusting him hadn't been enough, she'd been so goddamn worried when he went missing. Not just disappointed that the older sensai werewolf or whatever that was supposed to train Scott to _not_ be a crazed killing machine was gone, but legitimately worried about his well being and feeling guilty and in denial about his death. And then the asshole had gone and shown up alive. I knew that, for some absolutely crazy reason I had no hope of understanding, she was upset she hadn't seen him yet. We'd known Derek was alive for a while now, and he was still only talking to Scott. Maybe it was because she trusted him more than Scott or I did, or maybe it was something more serious I wasn't willing to let myself think about, but I just really wished that she would get over the whole Derek thing and come to her senses. The guy was dangerous, and he couldn't be trusted. Not with my safety, not with Scott's, and definitely not with Sadie's.

I groaned as I reached a red light, running a hand over my head as I tried to shake off all thoughts of the intimidating fugitive lycanthrope. I stopped suddenly, patting the back of my neck and head in sudden realization. I glanced into the passenger seat and then into the back of the Jeep. I hadn't noticed at first because I didn't usually wear anything on my head, but my hat had just disappeared.

"Oh, come on. What the fuck?" I grumbled, digging through the empty take out bags that were littering the floor of the car. What the hell had I done with it?

And then Sadie's face flashed through my head again—smug smirk powered full blast as she rushed into her house, my hat still firmly jammed backwards on her head. I rolled my eyes, unable to keep the smallest of grins off my face.

"Well played, Bennet," I chuckled to the empty car, shaking my head and slumping back in my seat. "Well played."

I wasn't really sure what had made me grab the hat before I left. I'd showered, gotten dressed, just like I usually did. I mean, okay, maybe I'd used a little more body spray than usual, but it was nothing out of the ordinary. And then I'd just been standing in the bathroom, staring at myself in the mirror. I just felt so ridiculously normal. I was always the same—the same T-shirts and buttondowns and sneakers and everything. And look where that had gotten me. Human sidekick to my werewolf best friend, still jacking off to my laptop screen because I was grossly alone and apparently uninteresting. I just wanted someone to think I was interesting. Preferably a girl, but any attention would be appreciated, really. I wanted to be different, worthwhile. And the only thing I could really think of in that moment was to change something small. So I'd grabbed a hat. I'd put it on normally, then realized I looked even more like a loser than I normally did, and flipped it backwards. Yeah. That made me look kind of rough. Not really a burly guy girls would swoon for or whatever, but I looked tough enough. That's what the whole bad boy thing was about, right? Looking like you weren't afraid of anything and didn't really care too much. I'd be breaking plenty of rules that night, so that definitely tied the whole thing together.

Of course, it hadn't really occurred to me why I suddenly felt like I had to put all this effort in on a werewolf business night. The only girl I was going to be seeing was Sadie.

She probably hadn't even noticed that she'd left with it, if I was being realistic. I stole a glance at my phone sitting in the passenger seat, the screen dark and void of new text messages. If she'd taken the hat on accident, she probably would have noticed by now, right? She was probably getting for bed—which I was not thinking about—and that generally meant noticing you had someone else's baseball cap rammed on your head. I thought about the smug smirk she'd been wearing as she slipped inside. If she'd taken it on purpose, then what was the point? What she just trying to exact revenge for the long night of crime we'd dragged her through or…?

I stopped that train of thought before it could leave the station. Nuh-uh. I was not going down that road. Fine. I'd admitted that I was physically attracted to Sadie. I mean, how could you not be? She was one of the hottest girls in school—a pretty face, a perfect body, really nice, _really_ long legs…and a great ass…which I admit I enjoyed the view of every time she had to climb into the back of the Jeep... But that wasn't the point. The point was that I could be physically attracted to her and still be her friend. I was a mature and responsible guy, who was completely capable of keeping my hormones in check around beautiful girls. Even beautiful girls like Sadie who had great taste in movies and an intimate knowledge of the supernatural world. Scott could crack all the jokes he wanted, but it was just good old sexual attraction. We were just friends.

Besides, I reminded myself, the only girl I'd ever been interested in was Lydia Martin. Sadie's completely wonderful, if terrifying and slightly vindictive, and sexy best friend. I was still totally in love with Lydia. Still watched her in the hall, still knew her favorite color and song and perfume scent, still knew her best subjects and her license plate number by heart, in case there was ever some trouble I overheard on the police scanner. I still experienced bouts of bloodcurdling rage and sickening jealousy and suffocating depression whenever I saw her with Jackson. God, fucking Jackson, who treated her like shit and didn't deserve a single shred of the time he got with her. She could be shallow occasionally, but Jackson was just a complete and utter tool, vapid and self-centered and self-absorbed and conceited and just a fucking asshole. Obviously, Lydia didn't see him that way, since she was still with him. But at least I was on her radar now. I was friends with Sadie, and that meant Sadie at least had to think I was a cool enough person, and if Lydia trusted Sadie's judgment in people, then she'd have to accept that I at least had potential. I'd stick around, show her how much better for her I was as opposed to Jackson. The five-year plan was still in motion. I still liked Lydia Martin.

I subconsciously nodded slightly to myself, convinced by my own argument. Obviously it was just sexual attraction I was feeling for Sadie. I had an abysmally inactive sex life, and happened to hang out with a cute girl a lot for the greater good of our little town. Sadie would bring the hat back to school tomorrow, smack me with it, and uselessly remind me that I was never allowed to drag her out on a night I planned on breaking more than one law every again. And we'd continue being friends.

But a tiny little voice was squeaking obnoxiously in the back of my skull. Even if Sadie didn't return my hat, decided to keep it like some girls stole sweatshirts from their boyfriends…only obviously _not_ exactly like that since we were friends…but still…it probably wouldn't bother me all that much…

* * *

**A/N: Whew! Okie dokie! There's another one done. I got one request for Stiles's thoughts on the whole Fenris deal. If we're being honest, pretty sure the whole hat thing was just because Dylan's hair was too long to be Stiles and he was filming so he couldn't cut it or something. BUT. I like my excuse too. I know there were some parts of the request I didn't reply to, but that's because I think they'll probably crop up later in the story. No worries my lovies! **

**So, Stiles being firmly rooted in his love for Lydia. I didn't want you guys to get too excited about his feelings for Sadie. It takes him a lot longer to come around to the idea. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it, and let me know what you think!**

**-Brittney**


	11. Field Fright

**Chapter 11 - Field Fright**

Scott's knee bounced up and down frantically as he sat on the bench on the lacrosse field. His stomach was tied in an anxious knot, and it wasn't just because he was about to play in one of the most important games of the season. The whole day had just been terrible. It was bad enough that he, Stiles and Sadie were now working with Derek to close in on the Alpha. That had led to the catastrophic confrontation with Allison earlier, which in turn had led to him sneaking into her house to steal her necklace, currently their only clue to who the Alpha might be. On top of that, Jackson had somehow managed to find out he was a werewolf, and Stiles was on the verge of a panic attack every five minutes because he was playing on the field in the lacrosse game for the first time ever. He'd been on the verge of puking when Scott left the locker room, and Stiles assured him he'd catch up with him in a bit.

That was why Scott was out on the bench on his own, teammates padding up beside him, the stands at his back full to the brim. But he was on his phone, his despair growing steadily with each ring.

_"Hello?"_

Scott let out a sigh of relief at Sadie's voice. At least she was okay. She'd gone to the hospital with Derek to investigate the text message Allison had received when they were locked in the school. They'd traced it earlier to a computer, his mother's account at work, but Scott knew it couldn't have been her. When Stiles had called to tell him the plan, he'd casually brought the topic around to his mom, about how you could send text messages from computers. It hadn't been the smoothest way to interrogate her, but she hadn't noticed. She'd raised an eyebrow and admitted that she had no idea that was possible, which didn't surprise him considering her basic knowledge of technology. Whatever the case, she hadn't lied, which mean that she couldn't have sent the text. Now it was all up to Sadie and Derek to figure out who'd hacked her account at the hospital, and how that tied in to the mystery of the Alpha.

"Did you get the picture?" he asked her, not wasting any time. He heard her sigh through the line.

_"Yeah,"_ she admitted. _"Compared it to the drawing and it looks exactly the same."_ She was interrupted by a slight scuffle before Derek began speaking instead.

_"Hey, is there something on the back of it?"_ he called, presumably a little farther from the phone than Sadie was. _"There's gotta be something. An inscription, an opening, something!"_

_"Get your own damn phone,"_ he heard Sadie grumble and shook his head.

"No, no, the thing's flat," he replied to Derek's question, shaking his free hand slightly in an effort to relieve his nerves. "And no, it doesn't open. There's nothing in it, on it, around it, nothing."

_"So if it's just a family heirloom, that means it just has to do with the Argents, right?"_ Sadie asked. Scott felt his stomach drop instantly.

"What would the Alpha want with Allison's family?" he asked quickly. He knew that it was a stupid question. There were plenty of ways the Alpha could be linked to a family that had hunted werewolves for centuries. Sadie pointed this out almost immediately.

_"They're hunters,"_ she reminded him. _"There's gotta be loads of werewolves with vendettas against them, right?"_ Scott's chest constricted sharply. This was too much to worry about. The necklace was one of their only links to the Alpha, because Derek's sister had been looking into it. But they didn't know how it was related to the Alpha. Was the necklace supposed to belong to the Alpha or something? If it was a family heirloom, that meant someone in Allison's family was doing a damn good job at hiding their condition. But he knew that wasn't likely. Sadie's thought was much, much more likely. The Alpha was looking for the person with that necklace too. And right now, that person was Allison.

Scott's head was pounding. He was already worried enough about Allison's safety as it was, and he already couldn't get close to her. She wasn't being hunted by the Alpha. She wouldn't be the next victim in a long line of Beacon Hills animal attacks. Right now, she was safely seated in the bleacher behind him, right next to her father and her aunt. They weren't the safest people for Scott, but he had faith they'd at least be able to keep Allison safe from an Alpha. He couldn't let himself think about it right now. He had to take a deep breath and focus on one problem at a time. Allison was safe with her family, Sadie was safe with Derek, looking for the Alpha, and he and Stiles had a lacrosse game to win.

"Sadie, where are you?" he groaned, ducking his head slightly as Stiles appeared at the end of the bench. He was pale and still looked twitchy and nervous, but his eyes were glued to the stands, searching for the one person who wasn't there yet. Sadie had to be there. "The game's gonna start in a couple minutes, and I don't mean to be pushy but Stiles is freaking out." Sadie sighed on the other end, and though he couldn't actually hear it, he knew her well enough to know how her heart had just skipped a beat and then plummeted at the mention of Stiles.

_"Yeah, I know I…"_ She trailed off, fighting to find the right words as Stiles slowly shuffled towards the place where Scott was seated on the bench. _"We got a little caught up, but I'll be there as soon as I can. Just remind him to take a couple deep breaths, okay? He worked hard for this."_

"Do you wanna talk to him?" Scott asked hopefully. He'd thought maybe hearing Sadie's voice might be able to calm Stiles down, ease his field fright a little if he knew she was safe and on her way. But Sadie immediately shot that thought down.

_"No!"_ she yelped. _"Uh, no. I should go, just… Just tell him I'm on my way and I'm gonna be a little late, okay?"_

"Yeah," he breathed in disappointment. He didn't know why the two couldn't just get their act together. It was one of the most frustrating things he'd ever had to deal with. "Yeah okay."

_"Okay. Good luck."_

"You too, Sadie," he finished, praying that Derek was enough to keep her safe. But it was just the hospital. There would be plenty of people there, and if someone got hurt for some weird reason, there'd be plenty of people to help. He had nothing to worry about.

Scott hung up the phone and quickly tossed it into his bag as Stiles collapsed on the bench beside him, his neck still twisted as he looked over the crowd.

"Hey," Scott greeted uneasily. "Feeling any better?"

"Dude, where is she?" That was the only reply Scott got as Stiles craned his neck, stretching to see the highest seats in the bleacher.

"Sadie's on her way," Scott assured him. "She and Derek got a little hung up at the hospital, and she's gonna be here as soon as she can." At the mention of Derek, Stiles's eyes snapped right to Scott, analyzing the words at a mile a minute.

"They got hung up? What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know," Scott shrugged, already sensing the prickling precursors of Stiles's jealousy. "She didn't say." Stiles's jaw clenched, and he turned to face forward, elbows on his knees as he flexed his hands.

"I swear to God if he touches her…"

"Stiles, dude, come on," Scott replied bracingly, nudging him a bit. "You know that's not what she meant."

"Dude, no I don't!" Stiles snapped back. "Okay? You just said you didn't know what she meant!"

"Yeah, maybe not specifically, but I know it's not that," he insisted. "Look, it was probably traffic or a cop or something. Maybe they had a hard time finding the right person to talk to. All she really cares about right now is coming to watch the game. Promise." Scott noticed that Stiles's knee started bouncing double time as he thought that possibility over, blinking at the field in concentration. He could almost see the wheels turning in his head as his eyes flashed from goal to goal. After a few seconds, a smile began to tug at his lips.

"You know, she made me a sign," he informed him, doing a terrible job at hiding his pride. Scott did an equally terrible job hiding his smirk.

"Yeah, I know. You told me like, four times." But Stiles didn't seem to hear the jab, too wrapped up in the possibilities he was running through his imagination.

"What do you think she's gonna put on it?" he asked. "What'd she put on yours? Name, number…"

"She threw a couple hearts on there," Scott reminded him slyly. "She could be drawing a bunch of hearts around your name or something." He'd been hoping to get Stiles's imagination revving, and it worked decently for a few brief seconds. Scott watched as his friend's eyes widen slightly as he imagined Sadie cheering for him in the crowd, probably holding up a big sign that said _"I Love Stiles"_ in a huge heart. But all too soon he shook his head, blinking hard and turning back to the crowd.

"Yeah, maybe," he replied casually. "Just uh…let me know if you see it, 'kay?" Scott raised an eyebrow in amused disbelief.

"You really think I'm gonna notice before you do?" Stiles clearly heard the skepticism in his voice, and his head immediately snapped to look at him, affronted.

"You've got werewolf senses," he said defensively. "Besides, it's my first game. I'm gonna be in the zone. Completely focused."

"Right," Scott agreed sarcastically. "So you're not going to be scanning the crowd every four seconds until Sadie shows up?"

"Sadie and Lydia," Stiles corrected, before he caught himself. "I mean, no!" He snorted, though it was a pretty pitiful argument considering he was practically standing upright at that point, looking toward the stream of spectators filtering in from the parking lot. He narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing each and every person for a few more seconds until he noticed Scott was still smirking at him. He chuckled as Stiles sunk back down to the bench in the most casual way he could manage. "What? I'm completely focused."

"Completely," Scott repeated sardonically, making Stiles roll his eyes.

"Shut up," he grumbled, pulling his gloves on and violently adjusting the straps.

Scott shook his head, his smile fading slightly as all his worries came rushing back to him. Stiles and Sadie. There was another problem he'd have to add to his list. He felt like he was pretty close to getting them together soon. Maybe if Sadie got here in time with her sign, and Stiles helped win the game, maybe it'd be the last push they needed. They could get all caught up in the energy of the game, an accidental celebration kiss, and boom. He'd finally be able to stop worrying about them.

But he had a terrible feeling gnawing at his stomach. Something wasn't right, and he couldn't put his finger on it just yet. He tried to convince himself that Sadie would be perfectly safe with Derek. What were the chances that the Alpha would be at the hospital? They had to be slim. But Sadie was still all the way down by the hospital, and the game was about to start. By the time she got her answers and got back… He just really hoped that she'd get here in time. Not just to support Stiles, but because he wasn't sure he could handle her being hurt on top of all the other crap that was going on. Sadie needed to be fine just like Allison needed to be fine.

Coach Finstock blew the whistle, calling all the players into a huddle on the field, and Stiles let out a strange, strangled whine. Scott clapped him on the back, attempting to shake off his worries and focus on the game. One problem at a time. Win.

He spared the bleachers one last glance before turning to the field. There was Allison and her family, his mother, Stiles's dad. But that was it.

"Come on, Sadie," he whispered to himself. "You've gotta be here." But then Coach was calling his name, and his mind was back on lacrosse. She'd be fine. She would be just fine.

* * *

**A/N: Hey guys. So I'm not too crazy about the way this one came out, but I really wanted to do it. Might be the last you hear of me for a while, since we're approaching midterm week, which means I am going to be completely bogged down with work. BUT! I've picked out a title for the sequel, and I'm done plotting it out. So we've just got a few more of these that I want to do, and then I can start working on that. Wooh! Anyway, please let me know what you think, because I always love hearing from you!**

**-Brittney**


	12. Unrequited Love's a Bitch

**Chapter 12 - Unrequited Love's a Bitch - Stiles**

Friday afternoon, I was poking at my fries in the cafeteria. Normally I'd be scarfing down as much food as I could during the break, but I was sitting with Sadie, and something just felt off.

She'd been quiet for the last couple days, ever since Peter had attacked her at the hospital the night we won the semi-final lacrosse game. Scott seemed completely oblivious, or maybe he was just trying to give her space. But I didn't feel like she needed space. What she needed was protection, which meant I'd been trying to keep a closer eye on her for the past week. For the most part she seemed fine. She held up normal conversations and was just as sarcastic as she always was, but for some reason I could tell that something was different. It was like her eyes were darker or something, her voice just a little more forced. I knew she'd been a little off after Peter had attacked her at the video store, but then she'd found out about werewolves and been snapped out of it a bit. And after we'd been locked in the school, she still had something to do, something to work towards. But this attack left us with absolutely nothing. We had no idea how we were going to stop Peter, especially now that Derek was working with him. With her werewolf boyfriend—which I was still calling him because I still had no idea why she trusted him so much—gone to the dark side, and no plan of action to save the town, there was nothing to distract her from the trauma of her third attack. At least, that was the only reason I could come up with as to why she was so glum.

I glanced at her cautiously, noticing how she kept her head down, staring at the table intently. I grabbed at another fry, trying to think of something to say.

"So," I started, making her head lift up. Immediately, I could see the change, see that actress's wall she was putting up, but I pushed on anyway. "I was thinking you, Scott and I should all hang out tomorrow. Have like a movie marathon or something. Try and get _some_ sort of normality back in our lives."

"No can do," she replied immediately, dropping her eyes back to the table. "I'm going shopping with Allison and Lydia tomorrow."

"Dress shopping?" I asked, trying not to sound too hopeful. I didn't want to think too hard about the girls trying on dresses and giggling and talking about their dates like girls did in the movies. Half because that involved imagining them changing, and half because that meant acknowledging that I might get brought up in conversation and discussed between Allison, Sadie and Lydia freaking Martin when I wasn't around.

I was still kind of amazed that I was going to the winter formal with Sadie. I was half expecting Lydia to tell her she wasn't allowed to go with me, or even be seen with me at all, but I guess I had to give Sadie more credit than that. Sadie was my friend, and she was loyal and strong enough to not let someone else's opinions tell her who to associate with. I had to give Lydia more credit too. I knew that she was really, really close with Sadie. If there was anyone she would put her vicious judgment on hold for, it was Sadie. So maybe Lydia was only letting her go with me because we were friends. It still showed that she was willing to tolerate me, and she really was as compassionate as I thought she was when she wasn't at school with an audience to perform her bitch act for.

"Nope," Sadie dismissed again, flicking long fingers through the air. "Well, not really. Lydia's got some weird, four-tier system for dress shopping. Technically we've been looking for over a month. We're just going window shopping tomorrow."

"Any idea what you're gonna get?" I pressed, eating a few more fries. She raised an eyebrow, shaking her head at the site and in response.

"Eh, not really. Lydia thinks I look good in purple, but I'm not so sure about you." I glanced up, glaring at her taunting smirk before I mirrored her expression. I flicked a fry towards her from my plate, grinning as she practically squealed. She waved her hands, trying to bat the crumb away from her sleek hair, her face scrunched up as she giggled. I tried not to think about the swell of pride I felt at making her laugh, much more comfortable now that she was smiling again. That was the Sadie I knew. The one with the pretty smile. Unfortunately, she caught my expression and rolled her eyes. "Anyway," she continued, even though she was still grinning, "I have a feeling it's not gonna be up to me. Lydia will probably choose her own dress first and then choose something for me that doesn't clash."

"Green," I blurted before I could stop myself. "You should tell her to wear green. It makes her hair look really nice." I glanced over at the table on the other side of the room, watching Lydia's hair sway as she talked enthusiastically to Allison. It caught the light, making all the red highlights shine as she put on a smile that I knew couldn't be completely genuine. I couldn't believe Jackson had dumped her. How could you have someone like that in your life and then let them go?

"I know, Stiles," Sadie grumbled, breaking my trance. "I think that's probably the fourth time you've suggested it." I pulled by eyes back to Sadie, noticing how she was glaring down at the table once more.

"Sorry," I relented, turning back to face her head on. She simply shook her head, but she didn't meet my eyes.

A pang of guilt shot through my stomach. I knew it was probably really stupid to be ranting to Sadie about how much I liked her best friend, especially considering everything Sadie had been through recently. I mean, I hated it when Scott gushed about Allison for too long, and it was kind of hypocritical for me to be putting Sadie through the same kind of torture. But I felt like I could talk to Sadie, because she always understood me. She knew the compassionate, smart, caring Lydia that I knew existed, understood why I liked her so much. Which is probably why I didn't seem to be able to shut my mouth.

"It's just weird, you know?" I sighed, eyes straying to Lydia's strawberry blonde curls again. "Like…I think about her all the time, daydream and stuff, but when it's time to get back to reality… I don't know, it's like I could just look at her and Jackson and snap out of it. Like, 'she's never gonna notice you while she's with Jackson' but…now she's not. And I just can't stop thinking, like…maybe now that she knows who I am, I could be the one to help her get over Jackson. And I just can't keep down that bit of hope, you know?"

I almost groaned internally as, first Allison, and then Lydia glanced our way. Allison threw me a small, polite smile before turning back to their conversation. I could tell Lydia was barely keeping an almost amused grimace off her face. That should have hurt. To any normal person, it would have. But keeping a grimace off her face was so much more than Lydia had ever done for me before. It wasn't a look of confusion or an open look of disgust. Ever since Sadie had come along, Lydia had been forced to notice my existence, and instead of throwing out biting insults or corrections, she did her best to be on good behavior. It wasn't friendly by a long shot, but at least it was almost civil. And in some twisted way, that gave me hope.

After a few seconds I noticed that the table had gone completely silent. I turned back to Sadie, who was watching me closely with those warm brown eyes. She didn't look away either, just continued to stare at me in this unnervingly calculating way. I quickly ducked my head, feeling my cheeks flush.

"Sorry, that…that didn't make any sense."

"No, it's fine," she replied. "I get it." I lifted my head up to look at her again, but she was staring down at her food, her face half hidden by her hair.

"You do?" I asked tentatively, and she nodded.

"Yeah, I'm…I'm familiar with the feeling." For some reason, the sentence caused me to freeze. I stared at the wall of brown hair Sadie had left between us, hiding her face so that I couldn't even attempt to read her the way she'd been reading my face a few seconds ago. She sighed, lifting a hand to run her fingers through her hair. The wall temporarily displaced, I was able to catch a look on her face that I realized I never wanted to see there—pain. After another moment, she continued. "It's like…when you really, really like someone, but they like someone else. And you know the person they want isn't interested in them, isn't good for them, and you just want to make them see that. It's kind of impossible to keep yourself from hoping that somehow, they'll just turn around and see you one day, and you can help them get over it…that they'll realize that you're really what they wanted all along. But they're just completely oblivious to you and…" I watched as she trailed off, her words getting faster and higher as she grew more and more frustrated, until she just had to cut herself off. I watched her swallow thickly, watched her shake her head as she tried to regain her composure. Finally, she looked up at me, and even though the wall was back up, I could recognize the sadness in her eyes. "It sucks," she finished lamely, her voice back to normal.

The only thing I seemed to be able to do was stare at her. She'd described my feelings perfectly, everything from my frustration about Lydia liking Jackson, to my hope that she'd notice my potential. But why would Sadie understanding me make my chest tighten and my stomach sink? God, I really hoped Sadie hadn't felt like this when I'd been talking. I didn't want her to ever feel like this, whatever this was. Sadie understanding how I felt should have made me feel relieved, but instead it just made me feel sick. I didn't want her to be as upset as I was. And it was Sadie. How could anyone not notice her? She should have been able to get any guy she wanted. Not that I wanted her to be pining after some airhead lacrosse player, but still. You'd have to be blind not to notice her.

I decided that had to be the sinking feeling I was experiencing—sympathy, protectiveness. I didn't want anyone hurting my friends. I'd had enough of people hurting my friends. When it was supernatural, then I knew something could be done about it. But what was I supposed to do about some guy that was hurting my friend emotionally? I didn't know how to deal with that. All I knew was that I wanted to kick whatever lucky asshole she liked so much for not seeing her the way she wanted him to. He probably didn't even deserve her. She'd listened to me vent about my relationship problems, so I had to listen to her, no matter how shitty it made me feel. I was just being protective of her, and that was the only reason every part of me suddenly felt like lead…right?

But before either of us could say anything more, Scott plopped down in the seat next to me.

"Hey guys," he panted, as if he'd been sprinting over from the lunch line. "Sorry I'm late." He barely spared me a glance before grinning at Sadie, who just shrugged at him.

"Wha-? Oh, um…" I coughed, looking back to Scott. "Nah, it's cool. Good. We're fine."

"So, what are we talking about?" he asked, easing himself into the chair. I opened my mouth and then closed it again, trying to think of some other topic we could discuss. I knew it was unfair to say it after I'd ranted to Sadie about Lydia, but I wasn't sure if I could listen to her rant about how perfect the guy she liked was. Thankfully, I didn't need to think of an excuse.

"Nothing," Sadie replied, almost as soon as the question had left Scott's mouth. I looked over at her again, noticing how her gaze was locked on her plate, refusing to look at Scott or me. "Actually, you know, I just realized it's Friday, so I'm supposed to sit with Lydia. I'll see you guys around." And without another word, she swung her bag up over her shoulder, picked up her tray, and scurried away from the table, brown hair swaying behind her as she kept her head ducked and headed over to join Allison and Lydia. I watched her go with my mouth agape, until Scott nudged me with the elbow.

"Dude, what the hell did you do?"

"Wha-? What did I do?" I snapped turning to look at him defensively. "I didn't do anything! We were talking just fine until you showed up!"

And then my mouth clamped shut. I stared at Scott for a moment before looking back at the chair where Sadie had just been sitting, her speech ringing over in my head. She obviously really, really liked this guy. And this guy liked someone else, who didn't want to be with him. And she seemed torn up by the fact that, despite all the effort she put in, he didn't see her as more than a friend. And then as soon as Scott had sat down, she'd taken off. So…that could only add up to one conclusion, right?

Sadie had barely batted an eye when she found out Scott was a werewolf. She was so willing to stay by him, to help him anyway she could, been so convinced he was a good person. She'd come over to play video games with him when his girlfriend had dumped him. And despite all the time she'd been spending with us, Scott was still moody and gloomy about the fact that Allison couldn't even look at him. He only wanted to be with Allison, even after everything Sadie had done for him.

My stomach didn't seem to be sinking anymore. Instead, it almost felt like it'd been split in two, half burrowing down into my intestines while the other half shot up into my throat. It was always Scott, wasn't it? Allison loved Scott. Lydia had made out with Scott. And wouldn't you know it, now Sadie was pining after him too. He was my best friend, I got that he was a great guy, but I found that I hated the fact she liked him. I hated it a lot. Maybe I should have been happy it wasn't some weirdo jock from the lacrosse team—at least I knew Scott was a decent guy—but I still hated that she'd picked someone she couldn't have. Someone I wasn't even allowed to hate because he was my best friend.

It briefly occurred to me that Sadie and I were in the same boat. I liked her best friend, and she was in love with mine. And neither of us could have what we wanted. I bit my lip hard. I really, really hoped that me talking about Lydia didn't make Sadie feel this sick. If she felt even half as shitty as I felt, I was ready to never mention Lydia's name in her presence ever again.

"Yo, dude, you okay?" Scott prompted, watching me warily. I looked over at his completely oblivious face for a second. He had no idea how much she liked him. He didn't even care that Sadie was better than Allison ever could have been, and she still liked him. What was so great about Scott?

"Yeah, I'm fine," I insisted, sliding down in my chair slightly. "I'm just not that hungry."

"Stiles, you've only had like, half your fries," he pointed out, concern lacing every syllable. I simply shrugged, glancing back at the girls, where Sadie sat with her back directly towards us.

I didn't talk much for the rest of the period. Mostly, I let Scott talk while I stared at my books. I couldn't even look at him for too long without feeling irrationally angry. It was always Scott. Everybody loved Scott. He got his own girl and made out with the only girl I ever had a crush on. And now he was taking Sadie away too. I knew I couldn't really blame him. It wasn't anything that he'd done, and he didn't know he was doing it. But Sadie liking him so much still felt like a kick to the gut. It wasn't jealousy, I repeated to myself, just another blow to my self-esteem. I was just never good enough. For anybody.

**A/N: Oh no, I made myself sad. So, I'm not sure how much I like this one, but it was frequently requested that I show Stiles's thought process during this scene. I made myself feel kind of sick writing it too. Anyway, I hope you guys liked it, and make sure to let me know what you think!**

**In other news, I'm trying out for the Die On Teen Wolf contest. Now, I have a lot of people who follow this story, and I'm not above bribery. So, I'm gonna leave a link to my Instagram video on my profile. You can also go to and vote for me through Facebook if you find "Brittney W." Go vote, tell your friends to vote, get your family to vote. And if I get enough votes, I'll write something very special for you all - more sexually frustrated Stiles. Specifically, a detailed dream he has that reveals that Stiles has a kink or two. So if you want that, you should all go vote!**

**Also, I'm going to be at NYCC on the Saturday. I'm not sure if anyone cares, but if you're interested, I was thinking we could have like a faux panel? I'd love to meet you guys and answer questions and chat about the story, or Teen Wolf in general. Let me know!**

**Okie dokie then! Thanks for reading and I hope to hear from you guys soon!**

**-Brittney**


	13. Playing Cupid

**Chapter 13 - Playing Cupid**

She just had to do it. She had to tell him. She just had to open her mouth and tell him. She'd been over the conversation hundreds of times in her head, at least three since she'd sat down. If he was half as accepting as he was when she imagined it, she'd be fine. Then again, if he was half as cruel as he'd seemed in rest of her nightmares…

"Um, do you want me to say something first?"

Scott's voice jolted Allison out of her thoughts, and she looked up at him with wide eyes. They were sitting in his room, both awkwardly perched on the end of his bed as she played with her phone in my hands, trying to figure out what she wanted to say. She wasn't really sure why she'd come in the first place. Scott wasn't her boyfriend anymore, and inviting herself over to his house had probably been overstepping major boundaries. But for some reason, she felt like she needed to talk to him. Maybe he didn't want to tell her, but she knew that he knew more about what was going on in town than she did. He'd lied to her, her parents had lied to her, and Allison Argent really just needed someone to make sense of it for her. She was going to be honest with him about all of her doubts, and then maybe he would be honest with her.

"No," she answered, shaking her head and giving him an apologetic smile.

"Okay…" he replied, hand tapping away on his knee as he looked around the room.

Where was she even supposed to start? She didn't want to lead with _"I know you were lying to me."_ That just sounded so accusatory, and she didn't want to hurt him. She just wanted answers, plain and simple.

"Do you want me to leave you alone for a few minutes?" he asked, breaking the silence again. Allison furrowed her brow.

"Why would I want that?"

"I don't know. It's just that, um—you came in here and said that you wanted to talk," he started with a nervous grin, "and we've been sitting here for like ten minutes and you haven't said anything yet, and it's starting to freak me out." She cringed, and they both laughed nervously.

"Sorry," she apologized, shaking her head slightly. "It's a little hard to start."

"It's okay," he assured her, with that small smile of his that always gave her butterflies. "I can wait." Allison stared at him for a moment, regretting for the hundredth time that she had ever broken up with him. If he would just tell her the truth, tell her what was really happening, maybe she wouldn't feel so damn confused all the time. Maybe she could stop pretending that she didn't still want to be with him.

"I just…" she began, but immediately trailed off.

How had she planned on starting again? He'd never believe her if she just opened by telling him that she thought her dad was involved with the murders. Maybe he wasn't killing people—she hoped he wasn't—but he definitely knew more than he was telling her. He knew something. Kate knew something. Scott knew something. And they were all lying to her about what happened at school, what was happening in town, about Derek. Everything. She just wanted answers. Maybe she would just start there. It should have been easy. But just like every single other time she was faced with a problem, she chickened out.

"I—I just wanted to thank you for bringing me my necklace today," she gushed quickly, mentally kicking herself. "That was really nice of you."

"Oh." That was all Scott said for a moment, and she tried not to look at how confused and disappointed he was. "Um, it was nothing. You're welcome."

"Even if it was a little creepy that you were following Sadie, Lydia and I through the woods," she added with a small smirk. Scott paled slightly, ducking his head to hide under his fringe.

"Uh, yeah," he replied sheepishly. "Sorry about that."

"It's okay." Allison shrugged, her smile growing slightly. "I mean, we were just like going on a walk before we went dress shopping."

She immediately snapped her mouth shut in horror as Scott's face fell. Stupid. She was just completely rubbing it in his face that they weren't dating and they weren't going to formal together. Stupid, stupid, stupid. So much for not hurting him…

"Oh that's—that's cool," he replied lamely, the clench tone of his voice making her stomach feel like a rock. "Did you—Did you find anything you liked?"

"No," Allison answered immediately, as if knowing she hadn't been successful would make him feel better. "Nothing I wanted. Lydia found a few she was excited about, and Sadie was just kinda…"

She trailed off, remembering just how out of it her best friend had been while they were shopping. Of course, now Allison knew why she'd been just as reluctant as she was to look at formalwear. They were both upset that they couldn't have the dates they wanted to. Which, obviously, was totally not true in Sadie's case. Allison knew how much she liked Stiles, and how excited she was to go with him. But all she seemed to be able to think about was how much Stiles liked Lydia, and it broke her heart to hear her talk about it, but on some level Allison understood where she was coming from.

"Is she okay?" Scott pressed. She glanced over at him, noticing how his face was suddenly lined with concern. She'd known that he and Sadie were friends, but she hadn't seen them interact all that much. A part of her had always wondered just how close they could be, or if Sadie was just friends with him because of Stiles and her. But Scott seemed to be genuinely worried about her, and all she had hinted at so far was that Sadie wasn't excited about shopping. Allison thought back to the day Sadie had asked her about being friends with Scott, when she'd told her that she didn't plan to stop talking to him just because they'd had broken up. Now Allison could see why.

"Honestly?" she asked, shaking her head again. "I don't think she's been okay since Lydia and Jackson broke up." She expected Scott to be confused, ask why that would make her so upset, but he took her by surprise again. Instead, he nodded solemnly.

"Yeah, I know," he sighed. "Stiles has been an idiot."

"Wait," she piped, turning to face him slightly. "So you know…?"

"How much she likes him? Yeah," he answered, bobbing his head again. "That's why I got Stiles to ask her to formal, though. I know he likes her too. He just needed a kick or whatever. Hopefully a date will show them how dumb they're being." Allison's stomach immediately lurched again, her lunch conversation with Sadie playing through her head again at hyper speed. Scott must have caught the look on her face, since a moment later he raised an eyebrow. "What? What's wrong?" Allison ducked her head, raking a hand through her hair.

"I don't think the winter formal's going to be able to fix them…"

"Why not?" he asked, face screwing up in confusion. Allison sighed, wrapping her arms around her torso and sitting a little farther back on his bed. This she could do. She could talk about other people's problems and still be comfortable. She looked over at Scott forlornly.

"I was talking to Sadie at lunch today. She wants me to tell Lydia to take Stiles for formal."

"What?!" Scott yelped, eyebrows shooting up under his hair again. Allison merely nodded morosely. "B-But you said no, right?"

"I couldn't," she confessed guiltily. "She said I owe her for making her come on our first…" She immediately clamped her mouth shut again. She just didn't seem to be able to do anything right when she was talking to Scott. First she brings up formal, then their first date, and she was dangerously close to accidentally mentioning how Lydia owed her for kissing Scott when she still loved him. Before Scott could respond, she shook her head and pushed on. "She'd rather see Stiles be happy and go with Lydia than take her as a last resort."

"But she's not a last resort!" Scott defended, almost angry now. "She never was! Stiles just screwed up because he doesn't know what he's doing! He totally likes her!"

"Did he tell you that?" Allison asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes!" he answered, but then he winced. "I mean, kind of. He was going on and on about her when he was drunk, about how pretty she is and smart and funny and brave. I think it's just that he doesn't know how to like anyone besides Lydia." The flicker of hope Allison had been holding onto quickly went out.

"Well until he learns how to, Sadie's gonna keep beating herself up over it," she reminded him, her shoulders slumping forward. She bit her lip, thinking about the terribly defeated face Sadie had been wearing when she'd explained to her how she felt about Stiles. The problem was that Sadie was almost too nice for her own good. She was a martyr. She was willing to give up her chance to prove herself to Stiles just so that he could go on a forced date with a girl he'd liked since he was little. Allison wasn't sure whether or not her friend realized it, but the fact that she was willing to do that spoke volumes about just how much she liked the kid. Wanting someone to be happy whether you were a part of their life or not took a lot of strength. If she was being honest with herself, Allison didn't know if she'd be able to watch Scott get a new girlfriend who would make him happier than he'd been with her. She didn't even want to think about it. And that was one of the reasons she admired Sadie so much. Sure, she was desperate to show her that she was totally worthy of Stiles, that she shouldn't try to compare herself to Lydia because they were great in different ways. She just wanted her best friend to be happy, and as weird as he was, she knew that Stiles would do that. So if it took getting her together with Stiles to get Sadie the happiness Allison knew she deserved—after all the time they'd spent together, with Sadie listening to her rant about Scott, consoling her after they'd broken up, trying to take her mind off everything by organizing outings with Kate—then she wasn't going to stop until Sadie and Stiles were together.

"Maybe it doesn't matter though," Scott mused, pulling Allison out of her thoughts. She raised an eyebrow incredulously, and he quickly rectified the statement. "I mean, if they go together. They don't really have to be each other's dates to be with each other."

"Well, what do you mean?" she asked. Scott shrugged.

"I mean, they're still friends. They're probably going to speak to each other at some point anyway, whether they're dates or not. If Sadie looks really nice, and—and we get them to dance or something, maybe they'll work it out anyway."

"Is he gonna want to leave Lydia?" Allison asked skeptically.

"Do you think Lydia's going to let him stay with her all night?" he countered with a smirk. Allison chuckled, ducking her head and nodding.

"Good point," she conceded. "I mean, she knows Sadie likes him too. She could probably even force him to dance with her."

"He doesn't need to be forced," Scott corrected. "He likes her, he just… He needs some encouragement. He's not gonna need much by then though. Not if I can help it." He clasped his hands in front of him, staring at the floor in determination. Allison watching him quietly, smile tugging at her lips. It was things like this that made her reconsider her decision to break up with him. He could be such a great person. He'd lied to her and was involved with seriously weird and dangerous stuff. But how could he be such a bad guy if he was this passionate about getting his best friends together? Surely someone who so desperately wanted two people to be happy together couldn't be a bad person. But just because he was good didn't mean he was reliable or trustworthy, she reminded herself. She couldn't fall into that again.

"I still wish they'd just go together," she sighed, shaking her head in an attempt to clear it.

"Well you didn't tell them yet, right?" he offered.

"No, I don't think so," she replied, shaking her head slightly. "At least, I haven't. I don't think she did either."

"Okay," Scott agreed with a nod. "Then we've still got some time. I'm gonna talk to her, too. Maybe we can get her to change her mind?"

"I don't know," Allison sighed. "She seemed pretty determined."

"Hey," he started, making her look up. He was watching her carefully, taking in her frustration. "They're gonna be fine. We'll think of something."

Maybe it was the fact that he'd referred to them as one unit. _"We."_ Between that and the honest, cautious smile he was giving her, Allison couldn't remember why she'd ever been mad at him in the first place. God, she wanted him back. She knew it was stupid. She had completely legitimate reasons for leaving him, but sometimes he was just so great. And maybe he had a good explanation for everything he'd done, something less vague than, _"I was trying to keep you safe." _She just had to ask.

"That's…That's not all I wanted to talk about…" she confessed, flipping her phone in her hands again. Scott raised his eyebrows slightly, inviting her to go on whenever she was ready. She could proceed at her own speed. And he would wait for her.

Allison took a deep breath. She'd had this conversation with Sadie already, and gotten some sound advice. She didn't think Sadie was wrong. She just felt like she had to tell someone else—like she had to tell Scott. She needed to talk to him. She missed talking to him. And the only way she'd be able to keep talking to him was if she got her answers.

_"Okay,"_ she told herself. _"Here we go."_

* * *

**A/N: So I don't like writing for Allison's point of view. I don't like the way this came out. But I wanted to write from her perspective because Sadie is her best friend, and it felt almost unfair to have so many for other POVs without discussing her. I hope it wasn't too bad.**

**I am EXHAUSTED because I did my whole day at NYCC on 3 hours sleep. I did not get to meet any of my lovely readers, I did get into the Teen Wolf panel, I did not get to meet Dylan O'Brien, I did get to speak to Adelaide Kane. Full story's on my blog if you're interested in hearing about my day. Um, beyond that, I didn't get more than like 4 Instagram votes, sooo maybe you guys don't want the Stiles wet dream? I guess you don't. Guess that's up for debate. Voting's closed though. *sigh* Fingers crossed!**

**Let me know what you think!**

**-Brittney**


	14. Parental Guidance

**Chapter 14 - Parental Guidance**

Stiles took a deep breath as he walked from Sadie's front porch back to his Jeep, hands shaking at his sides. The night had not gone according to plan. He was just planning on doing some homework—or at least pretend to be doing his homework and playing _League of the Mytheval_ online. But no. They weren't allowed to have one night off. Instead, Peter had to try and attack Scott's mom, and then Stiles had to literally crash their fake date with his Jeep. Mrs. McCall was safe, at least, though she was now royally pissed at him for ruining her night. It probably could have been a lot worse. At least she was currently under the impression that his date night had been ruined too. Cause _that_ was likely.

He tried to keep himself from shaking his head as he hopped back into the driver's seat, shooting his best friend's mother a wary, sideways glance.

"So, uh, where to?" he asked with a pained smile. "Hey, maybe we should go out to dinner, huh? Yeah?"

"Stiles," Mrs. McCall practically growled, and he immediately dropped the joke for his own safety.

"Sorry. Straight back to your house. You got it." He kicked the Jeep back into motion, vowing to keep his mouth shut for the rest of the drive. He really couldn't afford to get into any more trouble.

Unfortunately, Mrs. McCall seemed to have other plans. They only made it about two streets before Stiles became uncomfortably aware of the fact that she was watching him. He shifted in his seat, trying to restrain to urge to crack another joke and running the risk of making her more upset. Thankfully, she broke the silence first.

"So," she began, turning to look out the window. Stiles was relieved to hear that she sounded a little more calm than she had before, though what had caused the change he didn't know. "You and Sadie?"

Stiles's stomach dropped. Of course. An interrogation on the one subject he had really been hoping to avoid. Well, he'd been hoping to avoid the whole reckless driving and date night and what's up with Scott conversations too, but Sadie was still pretty high on the list. He mentally kicked himself again as he replayed the scene in his head again. He just couldn't shut his mouth off. One moment they were two kids going for a drive, the next they were two friends on a date. He could have said anything, that he was giving her a lift because her mom had the car, but instead he'd let word vomit take over and said they were on a date. What was worse, Sadie had _not_ looked amused. In fact, she looked downright angry. Now every time she saw Scott's mom she was going to have to deal with the fact that he'd implied they liked each other as more than friends without her consent.

Stiles's stomach twisted as he thought about the incredulous face she'd pulled after he'd said the word "date." Was the thought of going out with him really that bad? Really, they could always play it off as a friendly thing they were trying that didn't work out. Going on a date with him didn't mean she had to pretend she was in love with him or anything. But even the idea of pretending seemed to disgust her, and he couldn't help but feel the tiniest bit disappointed. Which he was totally allowed to feel, he defended himself internally. He didn't have to like Sadie to be disappointed and slightly offended that she hated the idea of dating him. That'd be discouraging to hear from anyone.

Still, he tried not to think about how disheartened he was. On the other hand, he also tried not to think about how much he'd enjoyed being called "sweetheart," even if it was said sarcastically through clenched teeth after a violent threat. And he certainly wasn't going to think about all the images his brain had produced when Peter suggested that he'd crashed the car because Sadie couldn't keep her hands to herself. Even if Stiles had admitted to himself that he was physically attracted to Sadie, thinking about her slipping her hands down his pants to get him off while he was driving would inevitably lead to an uncomfortable boner, which was _not_ something he wanted to deal with when his best friend's mom was still in the car.

"Ha, yeah," Stiles replied shakily, clearing his throat and trying to drag his mind back to the present.

"When did that happen?" Mrs. McCall asked, turning back to look at him.

"Recently," he laughed nervously. "Like—Like incredibly recently."

"You mind if I ask how?" she pressed. Stiles was about to reply with a wisecrack, until he noticed the tone of her voice. Mrs. McCall didn't sound incredulous or surprised. That was the tone of voice he was used to hearing when he talked to anyone about Lydia. But Scott's mom wasn't asking him how he'd managed to get a date with Sadie, an awkward loser like him with a pretty and popular girl. Instead, she sounded completely pleasant, as if she was actually interested in hearing how Stiles had asked her out on this imaginary date. So he swallowed the joke, changing tactics.

"It's…It's really not what you think…" he admitted, making his passenger smirk.

"Oh, so it doesn't involve you being incredibly awkward and Sadie continuing to indulge you?" Stiles's face got caught somewhere between an affronted expression and a wry grin.

"Uh, no. There was a lot of awkward. That's true." Scott's mother shook her head with a small smile, then suddenly looked up as another thought occurred to her.

"What about that redhead you were always talking about? What happened to her?"

"Strawberry blonde," Stiles corrected automatically, making Scott's mother raise an eyebrow. "Uh, Lydia," he explained shamelessly. "Her hair's strawberry blonde, not red. And yeah, I still like her."

"Then why were you on a date with Sadie?" Mrs. McCall asked.

"Well, for one, Sadie actually talks to me," he replied without thinking. As soon as the sentence left his mouth, he realized it'd been a mistake. Mrs. McCall's curious face hardened into a glare and he instantly shut his mouth.

"God, Stiles, please tell me you're not just going out with her for the hell of it," she ordered. Stiles looked frantically between her and the road, fearful eyes wide.

"N-No! I'm not! I promise!"

"Are you using her to get to Lydia?" she accused, making his jaw drop.

"What?! No! Of course not! I…!"

"_She actually talks to me_?" Mrs. McCall repeated angrily. "Stiles, you better have a better reason than that for going out with this girl."

"She's great!" he yelped, his hands clenching the steering wheel as he stared down the road. "Seriously, Sadie's awesome! She's smart, she's gorgeous, she's funny. She's amazing, I just… I've always liked Lydia." Stiles nodded slightly to himself at the conclusion. He liked Lydia. He had always liked Lydia. And he could absolutely recognize that Sadie had some amazing qualities without having it mean he liked her. That's why they were friends. Because he knew she was a fantastic, accepting, brave person that he wanted to have in his life, even if he was still working on his ten year plan to make her best friend fall in love with him. Of course, he'd forgotten momentarily that he was supposed to be pretending that he'd just been on a date with Sadie, so proving that he didn't like her was really the exact opposite of what he should have been doing. But for some reason, he almost felt like he needed to reassure himself.

The explanation had been enough to calm Mrs. McCall down. She was watching him closely, considering his argument rather than being angry. After a few minutes though, that silence was just as unnerving, and Stiles's fingers were drumming on the steering wheel again.

"You know, Stiles," she began, her voice tired but resolved, "Change can be hard."

"Um…yeah…" he agreed in confusion, sparing her a glance before turning back to the road.

"Sometimes adjusting can be difficult, and you know, you might not want to do it," she advised, lifting a hand up to her head. "It seems simpler to not do it. But change is good." She gave him a pointed look, making him shrink into his seat.

"Sorry," Stiles apologized nervously. "I, um… I'm not really sure where you're going with this." Mrs. McCall shook her head, waving her hands in front of her slightly as she tried to reformulate her argument.

"Listen, take it from someone who knows, admitting that your feelings for someone have changed…it's hard…" Stiles was about to jump in and defend his feelings for Lydia again, almost out of habit, but the solemn look on Mrs. McCall's face made him stop. "It can be scary," she continued, staring out the front windshield, "admitting that your life has changed enough that these feelings you've had for someone for a really long time are just…different. But if you keep trying to push off that change…it's not going to do anyone any good."

Stiles pursed his lips as he watched his best friend's mother stare forlornly into space. He was not altogether comfortable with the way the conversation was going. He'd gladly let her scream at him until she was hoarse if it meant keeping that sad look off her face that she always got when she thought about her ex-husband. He knew she'd probably already been thinking about him because the whole date thing, but he hated being the current reason he was being discussed.

Unfortunately, before he could think of anything comforting to say, Mrs. McCall snapped back to reality. She blinked hard, forcing an uneasy smile on her face as she looked over at him again.

"I—uh—I'm just saying you shouldn't be afraid of taking that step away. I think it's good that you're taking a chance with Sadie."

"Uh…yeah," he agreed warily. "Well I don't think it went too well tonight, so I'm not holding my breath."

"Yeah," she agreed with a slightly derisive laugh. "Yeah, I guess neither of our plans really went well tonight. But, there's always a second chance. I mean, supposedly." Stiles nodded silently, keeping his eyes glued to the road as he turned a corner and thought over her words.

"I'm taking Sadie to formal," he blurted suddenly.

"Hm?"

"About second chances," Stiles elaborated, not sure why he was still talking. He was only digging himself into a deeper hole, after all. "I'm taking Sadie to the winter formal next Friday."

"Oh!" It was almost a gasp, and this time Stiles thought he heard the note of surprise in her voice, though it might have only been because he'd brought it up so suddenly. "Well, that's great. You've got a second shot to make a better impression."

"I don't know," he sighed, shaking his head. "I just…I want her to have a good time, but…I feel like she's not gonna be happy going with me." He tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice as he thought about how Sadie had talked about Scott at lunch the previous day. Stiles did care about Sadie. She'd quickly gone from being someone unbelievably out of reach to being one of his closest friends, and he wanted her to be happy. But he didn't know how to deal with the fact that she was in love with his best friend. What chance did he have of making her happy when she had to go to formal with him instead of the guy she really wanted? What was he supposed to do about that?

"Of course she wants to go with you," Mrs. McCall dismissed, bringing him back to the present. "She said yes, right?" Stiles nodded loosely in response, remembering how she'd offered to let him out of the date since he'd been drunk when he asked her. Had she wanted him to back out the whole time?

"I just don't want to screw anything up," he sighed, hands tightening on the steering wheel.

Stiles was a little surprised himself by how easily the sentence came. It was true. He was anxious about taking Sadie to formal, that he might do something or say something wrong as he usual did and upset her. Stiles couldn't afford to ruin their friendship. For one, he and Sadie still had to work together on the life or death situation that was currently threatening Beacon Hills, which meant spending a lot of time together. That was only the practical reason though. If he was being honest, Stiles couldn't lose Sadie because…well, she was Sadie. He'd never had a lot of friends, especially not ones that were as close as they were. He just felt completely comfortable with her—well, unless he was feeling uncomfortable, but it was usually the good kind of uncomfortable if anything. Sadie was one of the few people who could truly understand how he felt at this point in his life, if not the only one. She was clued in, knew everything that was going on and the pressure of the situation. She had a single parent that she felt responsible for protecting. And on top of that, she was a completely normal human. She didn't have claws, or super healing powers. She didn't have super warrior training like Allison's family. She was just Sadie. Smart, strong, compassionate Sadie, who still wanted to help him and Scott save people even though she knew the dangers and had only known them for a few months. Having Sadie to talk to, to understand what he was going through… It was one of the only things that had made his whole world being turned upside down bearable. He liked talking to her, even when it wasn't about werewolves or murders—especially when it wasn't about werewolves or murders. He liked how their conversations could go seamlessly from one topic to another, from something Scott had said when the full moon made him grumpy to the filming inconsistencies in their favorite movies. He could honestly say that he didn't know what he'd do without her. Which was why it was so frustratingly, nerve-wrackingly important for him to keep her around. He couldn't mess anything up. Because if he screwed things up with Sadie, he knew it probably wouldn't be too long before he started going out of his mind.

"You won't screw it up," Mrs. McCall soothed. "I know you'll be fine." Stiles raised his eyebrows at the road in slight disbelief as he turned onto the correct street. Scott's mother caught the look, making her sigh. "Okay, so maybe I don't know it. But I do know that even if you only liked Sadie half as much as you obviously do…"

"O-Obviously?" Stiles interrupted, but Mrs. McCall didn't acknowledge him.

"…you'd do everything you could to make her happy." She sent him a warm but haggard smile as he pulled up to the house, throwing the Jeep into park while the word "obviously" rang through his head on a loop. "I'd thank you for the ride," she began before glaring at him, "but seeing as you were the one who crashed in the first place, I'm just going to thank you for not doing it again."

"Ha, yeah," he replied sheepishly, scratching at the back of his neck. "I…I-I am really, truly sorry about that, Mrs. McCall. I just—uh…"

"Didn't see us coming, yeah," she dismissed, waving him off in annoyance. "Goodnight, Stiles."

"Yes!" he agreed with a slight cough. "Uh, night!" He offered his friend's mother a slight wave as she stepped out of the car. Mrs. Call was halfway through closing the door when she stopped, pausing to poke her head back into the vehicle.

"Um, I figure you don't really need to hear this from me, but I'm kinda in Mom-mode right now, and since I'm on a roll I'm just gonna tell you anyway." Stiles raised his eyebrows as she nodded to herself, leaning against the passenger door. "Sadie is a really sweet girl. She's thoughtful, compassionate, responsible, and I'm kind of hoping some of those traits will rub off on you and Scott. So, Stiles, if you hurt her, I promise you that you are going to have half this town on your ass."

"What?! N-No! No I… Trust me, the last thing I want to do is hurt her…" Stiles nodded to himself, but Mrs. McCall was still watching him steadily, clearly waiting for something more reassuring. He sighed, wracking his brains for something to say, something that wasn't necessarily a lie but would agree with the illusion Mrs. McCall was under. "Sadie… She's one of the only girls who's ever paid me any attention, like ever. So, it's just kind of weird getting used to the idea that she actually wants to be around me. And—And on top of that, she's…she's just really awesome. She likes all the same things I do, w-which is hard enough to find as it is, let alone in someone attractive, and uh… She listens to me and…she just gets it. And she's incredible and smart and hilarious, and uh…" He trailed off, horrified to feel that his cheeks were beginning to heat up for some reason. He cleared his throat, wiping a hand down his face. Unfortunately, his hands were warm and clammy, so the action didn't bring much relief. "I really like her," he added, remembering that he was really supposed to be playing a part. "It's kinda terrifying because I don't want to screw up, but uh… I promise I'm trying to make sure she doesn't get hurt at all." That was close enough to the truth. He didn't want Sadie to get hurt, and he was trying to make sure she never did, though he was really concerned about her throat being ripped out by a werewolf, which clearly wasn't what Mrs. McCall had meant. And he was nervous about being around Sadie. He didn't want to mess things up between them, even if they were just friends. So really the only lie he had told her was that he liked her, right?

Stiles lifted his head and gave Mrs. McCall a small smile, which she returned.

"Well, I'm glad to hear it," she said, bobbing her head once or twice. She went to close the door again, but before she could, Stiles stopped her.

"Oh wait, uh…" His left hand reached up to scratch at the back of his neck, her words ringing through his head again. "Um, what did you mean when you said 'obviously'?"

"Obviously?" she repeated, and he nodded fervently.

"Yeah, um—you said that I obviously really liked Sadie, and I just, uh…" He couldn't finish the sentence, but thankfully Mrs. McCall didn't seem to feel that he needed to.

"Stiles, I haven't spent a lot of time with you kids, but I've seen the way you look at her," she explained, an unsettlingly knowing smile on her face.

"The way I, uh…?" he started, but the woman just simply nodded.

"And hopefully Sadie sees it too," she continued without any more explanation. "Maybe then you can get that goodnight kiss, huh?" She grinned, but Stiles simply sat frozen in the front seat. After a few seconds of silence, Mrs. McCall shook her head slightly. "Goodnight, Stiles."

"Yeah, night," he bid absent-mindedly, but his eyes were just slightly out of focus. He didn't move when she slammed the car door, or as she walked up the path to her own house. Even once she was safely inside, Stiles stayed stock-still in his seat.

How did he look at Sadie? Was there a specific way he looked at Sadie? He didn't think there was. Why would he look at Sadie any differently than he looked at Scott? Well, unless he was checking her out, which he did pretty frequently. But he was pretty sure that letting his hormones take control and ogling Sadie's figure was not the kind of look that would make Mrs. McCall think he truly cared about her. If anything, it probably would have earned him a solid smack. So when had he ever looked at Sadie in a way that would convince Scott's mom that he truly and deeply cared about her as more than friends?

And then there was the other thing that she had brought up. The goodnight kiss. Not ten minutes ago, he'd walked Sadie to her door after coming up with the terrible cover story that they were on a date. And then he'd asked her if she thought they should kiss. He'd asked if he could kiss her. He'd asked if she would kiss him. What the fuck had he been thinking? It'd been a first date, and a fake first date at that. There was no reason that they'd have to kiss for it to be convincing. As Sadie had pointed out, he'd crashed the car before they could get to their fake-dinner, so as far as fake-dates went it'd been pretty fake-bad. No girl in their right mind would kiss their date under those circumstances. So why had he asked? Better yet, why would he have been disappointed when she declined? Was he that desperate for physical attention that he was begging for fake goodnight kisses? Is that why his stomach had jumped up into his throat when she'd taken a step closer to him? Was it that he really wanted to be kissed that badly, or…?

Stiles shook his head, running his hands down his face again. No. He was just a very, very desperate teenage boy who didn't know how to control his mouth. He'd go home, jerk off and go to bed, and in the morning everything would be back to normal. He couldn't afford to mess up his relationship with Sadie by thinking like that. He was supposed to have a policy—one that had failed him completely, since he hadn't been able to stop himself from being friends with Sadie. But part two of the policy was to not let himself get too attached. He couldn't like Sadie as anything more than a friend because Sadie would never like him as anything more than a friend. That was the way hot girls worked. They dated hot guys who were popular and suave, not the awkward boys they hung out with and went to for advice.

Not that that was something he had to worry about, he reminded himself as he pulled the Jeep back onto the road. He didn't have to worry about the friendzone. He didn't have to worry the pain that came with liking a girl who liked his best friend. He didn't have to worry about anything, because he didn't have any hot girl friends that he wanted anything more from.

He and Sadie were just friends.

* * *

**A/N: Boom! Getting close to the end now. Only a few more that I want to put up before I move onto working on the sequel. I hope you guys enjoyed this. It was pretty requested, and Mama McCall threatening Stiles about Sadie had been a reader idea in the first place, so I suppose it's only right that I publish it. Stiles beginning to toe the line with his crush, as we may see and be frustrated by.**

**I should probably organize some sort of thing to decide if I'm actually writing the wet dream. It'd be the last thing before the sequel if I do. Maybe uh, review or message me with a Sadles headcanon? And if I get more than 10 I'll do it. It can be anything. I just like hearing from you guys, and when I do, you get rewarded. Simple as that.**

**Anyway, I love you all, and I can't wait to hear what you think!**

**-Brittney**


	15. A Long Expected Party

**Chapter 15 - A Long Expected Party**

"Okay, so they wouldn't tell me what kind of dress she got. Like, I wasn't even allowed to know what color it was, so you have to make sure you try to talk to Sadie so you can get something that matches."

"Uh huh."

"Actually, you don't even have a suit. I don't know if we have time for that. You know what? We definitely don't have time for that. Just get black. That's what she told me to do. Black goes with everything."

"Sure."

"You should still find out what color she's wearing though, so you can get her flowers that match."

"Oh, I wasn't gonna get her flowers."

I immediately looked up from my meal, glaring at my supposedly best friend. We were sitting in the cafeteria, going over our plans for the winter formal later that night. Or really, Scott was being supremely unhelpful and quiet while I went over our plans… Okay, so I was really just going over his plans for him, but I already knew what I was supposed to do. Scott didn't. I'd finally gotten him to agree to take Sadie to the dance, since I was suddenly going with Lydia. After the big reveal that morning, Sadie had obviously agreed to go with him, which of course I definitely wasn't the slightest bit bitter about at all. I may not have been able to been able to make her happy myself, but I would still do everything I could to make sure she got the date she wanted. I got her the guy she actually liked, and there was no way in hell I was gonna let Scott mess everything up.

"Uh, yes you are," I corrected him emphatically. He simply scrunched up his nose in slight confusion.

"Why do I have to get her flowers?"

"Because you're her date, Scott," I growled, stabbing my fork through one of the chicken tenders on my plate. The fork squeaked against the plate, making me wince and reminding me to ease off the force. I tried to take a deep breath as I chomped on the food, closing my eyes for a moment. "Seriously," I began, still chewing. "Have you stopped to think of all of the shit Sadie's done for us? For you? The least you can do is pick her up some flowers. We owe her that much."

"Then why don't you get her flowers?" he pressed. I'd expected more a whine, something that made him sound like the annoying-as-hell child he was acting like, but he sounded more frustrated than anything else. I opened my mouth, ready to remind him that it was his responsibility as her date, and that Sadie wouldn't want flowers from me anyway, but ended up simply shaking my head.

"Just, no. Okay? You're getting her flowers. I—I will even go out and buy them for you if I have to, since you're obviously incapable of doing any of this shit on your own."

"Fine," Scott relented, slumping back in his chair and rolling his eyes slightly. I watched him for a few seconds, waiting for some sort of change—a grin, a question, any sign of interest at all. Instead, he just stared glumly down at his plate, completely disinterested in the conversation. I felt the anger building up in the pit of my stomach, until I finally tossed my fork down onto the table with a clang.

"Dude, can you pretend like you actually care for like two seconds?" I spat. Scott looked up from his plate quickly, eyebrows rising up to hide under his hair.

"About what?" I narrowed my eyes at him, barely managing to keep myself from slamming my hands down on the table.

"About Sadie!" I hissed, glaring at him. "This—This is really important to her, and I'm not gonna let you ruin her night because you're not excited! She deserves to have a good time. So maybe you don't care…"

"Stiles, of course I care about her," Scott cut me off, looking like he was caught somewhere between astonishment and exasperation. "But we're just going as friends. I still wish I was going with Allison, and Sadie doesn't really want to go with me either." My mouth actually dropped open slightly in incredulity, eyes narrowing even further.

"Scott, do you listen to anything I say? Ever?" He shook his head slightly, knowing where the conversation was going, but I kept talking anyway. "I've told you like a hundred times. I know Sadie wants to go with you. She really, really, really wants to go with you. So you can at least give her the chance she deserves, okay?"

"Why are you so hung up on this?" he asked, leaning back in his chair. He seemed genuinely curious, underneath all of the annoyance. "I mean, what makes you think she wants to go with me so badly?"

"Because she told me, okay?!" I burst. Scott's eyes widened fractionally, and I immediately clamped my mouth shut.

Great. There I went again with my big mouth. I was trying to be such a great friend by getting Sadie a shot with the guy she wanted, and I decided to go right ahead and tell him that she liked him. Some friend I was turning out to be.

"What do you mean she told you?" Scott asked, skeptical now that he was over the initial shock.

I chewed on my bottom lip for a few seconds, debating whether or not I should go on. I'd already done enough damage by telling him that Sadie had admitted to liking him. Did I really want to deepen my grave by giving him the details of her whole speech? Then again, now I finally seemed to have his attention. Scott had only been half listening to my instructions all day, but now he actually seemed to care what was going on. Sadie probably wouldn't want me to tell him what she'd said. But I didn't have to tell him everything. I could be vague. And if that's what it took for Scott to give her a chance as more than just a platonic date, make her happy in the long run, I was willing to deal with the consequences.

"Look," I sighed, giving in. "A couple days ago at lunch, Sadie and I were talking about formal and whatever. I was talking about Lydia for a bit, and then she went on this whole spiel about how she liked this guy that liked someone else. And she just kept talking about she just wished the guy'd notice her as more than a friend, and that the girl he was hung up on really wasn't good for him, and then you sat down and she took off." Scott's eyes widened slightly again.

"Stiles…"

"And if that's not you and Allison to a tee then I don't know what is," I continued, waving him off before he could continue. "We probably should have noticed earlier. I mean, she pretty much dies getting attacked by a werewolf, and then she finds out you're one too and suddenly she's all gung ho to help? You guys weren't exactly close enough for it to make sense that she was willing to risk her life to hang out with you. And she spent all that time comforting you and trying to help you get over Allison. And then she happens to free herself up for the formal by setting me up with Lydia? I mean, don't get me wrong, she's awesome for doing it, but then you both suddenly don't have dates. She's always wanted to go with you." I let out a long breath as I finished, only just aware of how fast I'd been speaking. Scott just stared at me quietly for a minute, watching as I stabbed another chicken tender with my fork.

"Why do you have to be such an idiot?" he sighed, shaking his head. My face scrunched up at the accusation. After that big explanation, Scott should have been kicking himself for missing the obvious signs. He should have been jumping at the chance to go to the dance with Sadie, or at least feel sad because he didn't feel like he could like her like that. He was supposed to be angry at himself, shocked at the sudden realization of everything that'd been happening. What he was not supposed to be doing was staring at me with some mixture of frustration, anger and pity.

"I'm not an idiot," I huffed defensively. "You're just oblivious."

I took another large bite out of my chicken, glancing around the lunchroom to make sure there weren't any bystanders who'd overheard us. I didn't need to deal with anyone giving us weird looks for talking about werewolves, and just because I'd had to tell Scott about Sadie's crush on him didn't mean anyone else was allowed to know. Especially Sadie. But that brought up another thought. I sat up a little straighter, turning in my chair to look around the whole room.

"Speaking of Sadie, where the hell is she?" I asked, scanning up and down every table for her chocolaty brown hair. Scott shrugged, pausing mid-bite of potatoes.

"It's Friday," he offered simply. "That's when she sits with Allison and Lydia."

"Yeah, except she's not," I disputed, glancing back to the lunch table where Lydia and Allison were conversing in low voices. Lydia seemed a little worked up, Allison calmly pleading with her about something, but Sadie was nowhere in sight. "Seriously, I mean, she was fine in chem right?"

"Think so," Scott agreed, also looking around the room. He paused for a moment, closing his eyes and concentrating. After a second, he perked up, relaxing a bit as his eyes opened again, the wolfy gold fading away. "Yeah, she's fine. Over there." He waved a hand casually somewhere to my left, and I scrambled to follow his gaze.

Sadie was sitting at a table on the outskirts of the cafeteria, her back slightly toward us and a curtain of hair blocking most of her face. She had one hand placed on the table, marking her place in a book she'd stopped reading. Instead, she was talking to the table's only other occupant, sitting opposite her and a few seats over. She tucked her hair behind one of her ears, revealing the bright smile she had on her face.

"Boyd?" I asked, and it came out more accusatory than confused. "Why the hell is she sitting with Boyd? Why does she know Boyd?"

"Uh, I don't know," Scott answered, clearly just as confused but not nearly as worried. "Maybe she just felt bad cause he was sitting by himself?"

"Of course he was sitting by himself," I replied quickly, much more quickly than I'd intended to. "It's Boyd. He's always sitting by himself. Why decided to sit with him today?"

"Stiles, chill," Scott advised, an exasperated smile growing on his stupid face. "I'm sure everything's fine."

"No, Scott," I argued, turning back to him and leaning forward over the table. "Everything is clearly not fine. If everything was fine, Sadie would be sitting here gushing to you about all the details of your date like a normal excited girl before she goes on a date. Then I wouldn't have to be doing all of the planning for you."

I twisted in my chair again, turning over my shoulder to steal another look at the couple. Sadie's hand had left the book, her spot completely forgotten as she turned all of her attention to the boy in front of her. I narrowed my eyes and forced myself to face forward.

"You know, she's probably just nervous," I reasoned, hardly noticing the anxious rhythm my thumb was tapping out on the table. "Excited nervous, like she's afraid she's gonna scare you off if she gets too excited or something. I mean, that's why I'm not sitting with Lydia."

"Stiles, you're not sitting with Lydia because you're not actually friends with Lydia," Scott corrected with a pointed look. I tilted my head in agreement and was halfway through chewing a mouthful of fries when I paused.

Scott's comment hadn't fazed me at all, which was weird. Usually any reality check that reminded me just how distant I was from Lydia made me really angry, or at the very least annoyed. But for some reason, Scott's statement that I still wasn't friends with Lydia after ten years felt like just that—a simple, true statement. So why didn't I feel bitter about it? In fact, I realized with a slight jolt of surprise, I wasn't even upset that I wasn't sitting with Lydia. And it wasn't because I was afraid of looking like an idiot if I pestered her with questions about the date. I just suddenly noticed that I had almost no desire to go sit with her. She was still the same Lydia Martin—gorgeous, smart and sassy as she'd been the day I realized I had a crush on her—but something just felt off. It made me shift uncomfortably in my seat, knowing something was wrong but not being able to figure out what it was. Scott didn't seem to notice my odd behavior though, since he just kept eating, eyes focused on his food.

I chanced a glance behind me at Lydia and Allison's table. They were still talking quietly, though Lydia seemed more concerned now than annoyed. I followed her line of sight across the room, back to the table where Sadie was sitting with Boyd. Apparently I wasn't the only one concerned about the seating arrangements. She looked content enough, but as my eyes roamed over her back I couldn't help but wonder if I'd done something wrong. Was she mad at me? Or was she just embarrassed to be around Scott? That didn't seem likely, considering we'd all been fine during lunch yesterday. So what was it? I tried to ignore the heavy feeling growing in my stomach. There was no proof yet that this was my fault.

"Stiles," Scott sighed, breaking me out of my thoughts. I ripped my eyes away from Sadie, turning back towards the table and trying to look as innocent as possible. How long had I even been watching her? But Scott simply shook his head slightly, his fork pushing his food around the plate. "Dude, just…don't push this, okay? Sadie hasn't… I mean, I don't think she's been feeling that great lately, so uh… Just leave it." I was almost shocked by the pleading tone in his voice. He sounded so sincere that, if I hadn't been listening to what he was actually saying, I probably would have backed off completely. Instead, that weird feeling in my stomach started to swell, quickly turning into straight up anger.

"No!" I replied firmly. "Scott, do—do you even hear yourself right now?! She's upset, so you want to just ignore her until the problem goes away?!"

"That's not what I meant," Scott defended weakly. I narrowed my eyes.

"If Sadie's really upset then—then she needs us!" I cut him off. "She needs to know that we want to help! That we care enough to notice she's not okay and we want to know what's wrong!"

"Stiles," he begged, still infuriatingly calm, "please don't push her. It's just gonna make things worse."

_"Worse?"_ I repeated angrily. "Letting her know that I want her to be happy is gonna make everything _worse_?"

"Honestly? Yeah," he answered, shaking his head slightly. "It probably will." I glared at him in silence for a few seconds, my mouth handing open. He just wanted me to ignore her, to pretend like I hadn't noticed anything was off. How was I supposed to do that? _Why_ was I supposed to do that? I didn't want her to think I didn't care if she was unhappy, or that I was too stupid to tell the difference. She was in trouble, dealing with something, and that was one problem I couldn't ignore.

"You know, I don't get it," I laughed bitterly, the anger from my stomach rising up into my chest.

"Get what?" Scott asked. He sounded almost cautious, like he could hear the tension in my voice. Or maybe he could actually smell it, with all his stupid wolf powers.

"Why she likes you," I snapped before I could stop myself. "I mean, Allison, Lydia _and_ Sadie?" I saw his face soften with pity, and rushed on before he could try and make some stupid comment. "And I mean, she knows you. She knows what you are and who you like and all the stuff you do. If anyone was gonna not like you, it should be her."

"Wow, thanks," he muttered, shoulders tensing slightly. I felt my eyes narrow even further, now practically slits.

"Dude, this isn't about you," I spat. "This is about her." Scott looked up again, raising an eyebrow, but I was already so worked up that I barely noticed. "Okay? All the shit she's gone through for us, risking her life and everything, and spending time with us even when she doesn't have to, and still managing to have—to have perfect grades and have a social life and be funny and beautiful and everything! She deserves better!"

"Like what?" he asked. He was almost eerily calm now, something I didn't catch onto. In retrospect, telling him that he wasn't good enough for Sadie probably should have offended him, even if he didn't like her. But instead he just seemed intrigued, sitting up a little straighter and leaning forward on the table to watch as I quickly unraveled.

"Someone who actually likes her, for one thing!" I scoffed, as if it were actually Scott's fault that he liked Allison. "Someone who's gonna pay attention to her and listen to her and help her with her problems instead of just staying away until she works it out herself! Someone who actually understands what she's going through, or at least cares enough to try! Who—Who cares enough to do the same shit for her that she does for us and tries to keep her safe and happy even though there's all this shit happening and—and tries to make her feel like there's not, like she's normal. Who's actually going to put in the effort to give her what she wants even if it's something stupid like—like getting her flowers and a suit that matches her dress and getting her food and driving her places so she doesn't have to! I mean, you can't do that! You don't even have a fucking car!"

"You mean like you have the Jeep?" he offered, voice even as his eyebrows climbed higher.

"Yes!" I exclaimed. A couple people looked in our direction, reminding me to lower my voice. "Yeah, I have the Jeep."

"So, you're saying that she'd be better off with you?"

"Well at least she would get the date she deserves," I replied stubbornly. "She shouldn't have to drive herself to formal, or drive both of you. You're the guy, so it's your job."

"So you'd rather Sadie was going to formal with you instead of me?" he prompted. I opened my mouth to reply, and then quickly choked back my answer.

"Well, ye—I mean, you know, it's—no, I mean if she thinks you'll—if you make her happy then fine. I'm just saying that if you aren't going to step up your game, then she deserves to go with someone else who might treat her better."

"Oh, right," Scott agreed, nodding emphatically and leaning forward on the table. "So, like who?"

"Wha…? I don't—I don't know," I stammered with a shrug, resisting the urge to look over my shoulder again to check that Sadie was still sitting in the same place.

"What about Isaac?" Scott suggested, and my face immediately scrunched up. "She was going to ask him this morning, right?"

"Lahey?" I asked, practically snarling. "Are you joking? The guy's bike is twice as shitty as yours, and if you don't have a suit, he definitely doesn't. Besides, he's too quiet and awkward. They can't know each other that well. He'd have no idea what to talk about. It'd be a wreck."

"Jackson?"

"One, she fucking hates him," I dismissed, "because she actually has a brain. Two, she'd never do that to Lydia. Jackson'd treat her like shit anyway. Any of the lacrosse boys would, like—like she was a piece of meat or something."

"Danny wouldn't," Scott argued, and I rolled my eyes.

"Yeah, because Sadie doesn't have a dick. But he's just one of her friends, like her token back up for not getting an actual date like she deserves."

"Mhm," Scott hummed, nodding again. A smile was slowly growing over his face, something I was just beginning to notice as he turned back to me. "So, just to clarify, what you're saying is that Sadie deserves an awesome, real date to formal with a guy who knows her, likes her, and is going to treat her right, and you don't trust anyone to do that but yourself."

"Yes!" And then my brain finally caught up the rest of my body, which had been on an uncontrolled, emotional tirade up to that point. My mouth fell open as I replayed my own answer, and I furiously tried to backpedal. "Wait, wait, wait. No. I meant no. I mean, yes I think Sadie deserves those things, obviously, but I—I mean, I'm sure someone could do that for her, ideally."

"And you'd be okay with it if she had a date with a guy that did all that stuff for her?" he asked.

_"No, I wouldn't be okay with it,"_ a voice said firmly in my brain. I squeezed my eyes shut, shaking my head back and forth.

"Yeah, of course," I answered, but even I could tell that my voice was higher than it usually was. "I mean, I can't think of anyone right now…"

"So as of this moment, the person who's closest to being perfect for her is you?" Scott pushed. I opened and closed my mouth once or twice before wincing and running a hand over my hair.

"Scott, can you just—can you not? I'm going to the dance with Lydia."

"Yeah, I know," he conceded lightly. "I'm just saying, hypothetically speaking, you're the best person for her?"

"Oh my God, can you stop?" I begged, running my hands over my face and pressing my fingers against my eyes.

"What kind of flowers are you getting Lydia?" Scott asked abruptly. My hands fell away from my face as I looked up, completely thrown by the change of subject.

"What?"

"What kind of flowers are you getting Lydia?" he repeated without explanation. I blinked, trying to think back to my own date, which I hadn't discussed all that much that day.

"Um…uh, I don't know. Not sure yet."

"You're not sure?" Scott echoed. "So you know exactly what kind of flowers I should buy for Sadie, but you haven't stopped to think about the flowers you're getting for your date? I thought that was your job?"

"I…! No! I mean, it is! I just—I've been helping you because you—you obviously don't know how to make these decisions and I do, so I can make them later for myself so I'm helping you first."

"First? Stiles, you haven't stopped talking about my 'date' with Sadie all day. When were you going to start planning yours?"

"Wha…? I…I don't know, I mean…maybe—maybe after…" I spluttered for a few seconds before the sentence finally fell away.

He was right. Here I was preaching to Scott about all the things he should be doing to make sure he was the perfect date, and I had barely spared a thought for Lydia all day. I was supposed to be going on a date with a girl I'd had a crush on since I was eight years old, and I hadn't even decided what kind of flowers I was getting her yet. Instead, I'd been thinking about what would be best for Sadie. Something meaningful, not cheesy, but wouldn't clash with the unknown color of her dress. I'd been instructing Scott for hours, and the only thing I'd been focused on was what to do to give Sadie the perfect date, everything from a winter formal mix CD for her car to ideal after party suggestions—assuming our werewolf troubles held off long enough that we got to celebrate with after party suggestions. I tried to think for a moment where I would take Lydia if she agreed to stay around after the dance. But my mind just came up blank. Eight years having a crush on Lydia fucking Martin and I didn't even know where I wanted to take her on a date. But Sadie? I'd given Scott at least twenty ideas. Go bowling, go to the movies, go to the elementary school and play on the playground, and do it all without either of you changing out of your formal clothes. They were cute ideas, but I couldn't see myself doing any of them with Lydia. They were perfect for Sadie, and I realized with a sudden conviction that I didn't want her to do any of those things with Scott. Every single suggestion had come from an image that had already existed in my head—me holding Sadie's shoes because she'd decided she couldn't bowl in heels, or Sadie in a dress with a huge skirt that covered three theater seats and I had to lay over my lap to sit next to her, or Sadie's skirt swaying back and forth with that huge, blinding smile of hers on her face as I pushed her on the swing. Those thoughts had popped up instantly, and I didn't want to picture her doing them with Scott. I couldn't even picture myself doing them with Lydia. Those were my thoughts, things I wanted to do with Sadie for myself. And that thought made my whole body freeze up, because if I wanted to do all those things with Sadie, and I couldn't handle the thought of her doing them with anyone else…

"Stiles? You okay?" Scott was prodding, leaning his forearms on the table. But I barely heard him. His voice was like background noise and I just stared down at the table, my eyes going wide and my jaw dropping.

"Oh my God. Oh my God."

"Dude, what is it?"

"Shit. Oh my God. Fuck!"

"Stiles! What's wrong?!"

"I…I like Sadie…"

"What?"

"I like Sadie," I repeated, still staring at the same small spot on the table. "I—I really, really like Sadie. I totally like her." I vaguely registered Scott's face breaking into a wide smile, and he might have said something along the lines of "_finally_," but the most part I was too shocked to acknowledge him. "I'm not supposed to, though!" I rambled on.

"Dude, who cares?" Scott cut me off, still grinning.

"She does!" I piped. "Or I mean, probably. I mean, I'm supposed to like Lydia and now I like her best friend and I'm friends with Sadie so I said I was never gonna do this because I don't want to fuck up our friendship but then I went ahead and did it anyway and now I like her! Shit!" I let my head fall into my hands, elbows propped up on the table. "Now I really like her, goddamnit."

"Stiles, why do you sound so upset about this?" Scott asked, pushing his plate away from him so he could focus on the conversation. "This isn't a bad thing." I raised my eyebrows incredulously, head snapping around to glance at Sadie's back before I turned back to him.

"W-Why am I upset? Not a bad thing? Scott this is a hugely bad thing!" I groaned, mirroring his position and leaning forward on the table.

"Why?"

"How about the fact that she's one of my best friends?" I offered in frustration. "I mean, if there's one girl who could possibly be more unavailable than Lydia, it'd be Sadie. She's friends with us, she sees us all the time, and I have about a snowball's chance in the fieriest section of hell of climbing out of the friendzone. How many times do I have to go over that with you? Hot girls just do not date their guy friends."

"Can you stop that?" Scott almost growled. "You didn't see a problem with Sadie dating a friend when you thought she was into me."

It felt like all of the organs in my chest had decided to slide down to crush my stomach. I'd momentarily forgotten about everything that was happening in the world around me. Yeah, it was huge that I'd somehow managed to subconsciously get over Lydia Martin and developed a new, potentially even more debilitating crush without realizing it. But Sadie wasn't just one of my friends. She was a friend who was very clearly in love with my best friend. So the fact that I'd finally come to terms with my feelings for her meant jack shit.

"Fuck," I groaned, head falling into my hands, "she _is_ into you. She's my friend _and_ she's already into you. Just…fuck! I can never fucking…!" I banged my fist down on the table, unable to actually finish the sentence. I just couldn't catch a fucking break. As if one reason wasn't enough, the universe had to slam me with two reasons I'd never get her attention. She was already too used to seeing me as a friend, and she was totally blinded by Scott and all his stupid dangerous, wolf-y glory. Scott, who was currently looking way too calm for the situation, almost smiling.

"Stiles! Calm down. I promise you, Sadie doesn't like me."

"Are you a fucking idiot?!" I snapped. "Yeah, she does. She gave this whole speech about…!"

"Yeah, I know, some guy she likes," Scott interrupted. "But can't you think of anyone else she's friends with who's spent pretty much his whole life pining over someone who doesn't like him?" I opened my mouth to retort, but nothing came out. Instead, I just sat there with my mouth open for a few seconds, trying and failing to process the words. I closed my mouth, then opened it again. Closed. Open.

"What?" I asked finally, making Scott roll his eyes with a dangerous amount of exasperation.

"Another guy," he repeated, giving me a pointed look, "who likes one of Sadie's friends that doesn't pay him any attention. Someone she's friends with and spends a lot of time with, besides me." I could feel my eyebrows slowly climbing higher and higher up my forehead as he spoke, but still couldn't speak. After a minute, Scott's hopeful face snapped back to anger, and he looked about two seconds away from having his eyes flash yellow and shredding me with his claws. "Stiles, think about everything she's done for us since she found out about me. Besides me, who else did she have to spend an insane amount of time with?" He glared at me, like he was trying to say, _"If you don't say the right thing right now, I swear I'm gonna kill you."_

"W-What?" I repeated, my eyes probably about to fall out of my face at that point. "What, Derek?"

"And you think I'm oblivious," he shot, taking an almost vicious sip from his water bottle.

"What? It's not like it's me," I scoffed. But Scott didn't respond. Instead, he just raised his eyebrows and stared at me pointedly for another few seconds. I shifted uncomfortably in my chair, but he didn't let up. "Come on, dude, seriously. I mean, if she did—which is totally and completely out of the question anyway—why would she set me up to go with Lydia?"

"If you like Sadie, why'd you set her up to go with me?" he countered, and I clamped my mouth shut. I was about to go on a rant about how I hadn't realized I'd liked her until a couple minutes ago, and I'd only set her up to go with Scott because I thought it was what she wanted, her dream date.

And then it hit me so hard I felt like my head was spinning. I'd thought Sadie liked Scott, so I had set them up because I wanted to see her happy, even if that meant not going with me. Had Sadie been doing the same thing? I'd said we were going as friends, and had probably been acting like a complete asshole since Lydia became single. What if she had just done what she thought would make me happy? Was that even possible?

I glanced over my shoulder, watching the way her hair swayed as she shifted in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. It seemed stupid to think that she could have her pick of guys in the school and then choose me. But then again, I reminded myself, that wasn't really the way relationships worked. I hadn't chosen to like Sadie. She'd basically fallen into my lap—almost literally—and I'd fought it ever step of the way. It was hard to believe that at the beginning of the year, I hadn't even wanted to be her friend. And if I had accidentally fallen for Sadie, was it possible that she'd accidentally begun to like me? About ninety-eight percent of my consciousness was going with no. I was too weird, too weak, too unimportant. Why like me when we were consistently hanging out with guys who pretty much had superpowers? But then there was the two percent, that little glimmer of hope that I'd talked to Sadie about, that was impossible to suppress. Only now it wasn't a hope that Lydia would turn around and miraculously see me as worthy of her time. Now it was a hope that Sadie had gotten to know some decent side of me that could make her consider me as more than a friend, all while I wasn't even looking.

"You think she likes me?" I demanded, wheeling back around in my chair to narrow my eyes at Scott. He pressed his mouth into a tight line and shrugged. "Oh, come on, dude!"

"I can't say."

"Can you not say because you don't know or can you not say because she told you not to say?" I interrogated, almost out of my chair I was leaning so far over the table. Scott opened his mouth and then shut it again.

"Can't say," he repeated. "All I'm saying is that you might want to think about why she's done everything that she has for us if she's not doing it for me."

So I paused, and I did. I replayed everything about Sadie in my head, from the moment I'd noticed she was the new occupant in the Martin house. Sadie recognizing me from my drive-bys over the summer. Sadie inviting me to her Welcome-to-Beacon-Hills party even though she knew I'd basically staked out her house. Sadie listening to me rant about how much I liked Lydia while Jackson was in the hospital. Sadie arguing with me about movies as we chaperoned Scott and Allison's first date. Sadie texting me at the lunch table during the set-up for bowling disaster. Sadie and I making subtle jokes during lunch when Scott and Allison had their first study date. Sadie standing up for my dad when Jackson yelled at him at the video store, even though she was hurt and bandaged up. Sadie grilling me for information about the murders, and actually believing me when I told her it was werewolves. Sadie coming over to visit my dad after that car hit him, and not choosing sides in my fight with Scott. Sadie talking about comic books. Sadie refusing to let us lure out the Alpha on our own, and risking her life to come to the school with us. Sadie and I talking about our parents while we were locked in the chemistry room. Sadie coming over to play video games with me and Scott, after Allison dumped him. Sadie agreeing to go to formal with me. Sadie keeping me company while we watched over Scott on the full moon. Sadie enthusiastically dragging us along on Halloween, making me uncomfortably hormonal for the entire day. Sadie helping in the search for a cure, talking us out of major trouble with Dr. Fenris. Sadie agreeing to go with Derek to the hospital to look for the Alpha, getting attacked again and almost dying all because she wanted me to get a chance to play in a lacrosse game. Sadie talking to me about unrequited love. Sadie and I crashing the Jeep and pretending to be on a date. Sadie convincing Lydia to be my date to the winter formal, and trying to keep me company as they dragged me along on their shopping trip. Sure, she'd stayed by Scott's side, and I had no doubt that they'd gotten closer. But everything Sadie had done since she'd arrived in Beacon Hills had also brought _us_ closer. She was practically a lifeline for me, and it seemed stupid, impossible that I hadn't noticed it sooner.

I liked Sadie Bennet. And I had royally fucked up.

"Oh my God," I groaned again. "Because I asked… And then she… And then Lydia and Jackson… And I just… And then Sadie thought… I mean even _I_ thought… And now I'm going… And she's…"

"Yeah, pretty much," Scott summed up, nodding smugly as I wiped a hand down my face.

"I mean, how did I not notice this sooner?!" I cried, mentally and repeatedly kicking myself. Scott shrugged.

"I don't know, man. I mean, I think you kinda just got sucked into the routine of liking Lydia. You didn't think you'd ever like anyone else."

"Yeah, but I've—I've been terrible," I realized, pushing myself forward to the edge of my seat. "I mean, first it was just maybe we could talk so I could be around Lydia, and then it was try not to be her friend, at least try not to be attracted to her, try not to like her, and look how that ended up! And we're—we're always calling each other by our last names and stuff, and texting and taking care of each other through all the wolf stuff! And I hate when she talks to Derek—like even talks about Derek, and I didn't want her to go to the dance with Isaac and I don't like that she's sitting with Boyd. I know I don't really have a surplus of girl friends, but seriously, how did I think that being that protective of someone was platonic?!"

"I don't know," Scott repeated in amusement.

"I mean, I tried to kiss her!"

"Woah, woah, woah!" Scott jumped, waving his hands in front of him as he practically jumped out of his seat. "You what?!"

"Yeah!" I affirmed, still shaking my head at my own obliviousness. "When—When we crashed into your mom's car she asked us where we were going and—and without even thinking about it I just said that we were on a date."

"You what?!"

"And Peter was there and there were roadhead jokes and handjob jokes and it was—God it was so bad. And then I drove her home and—and we were talking about the dance and your mom was watching us and I just—I just asked her if she thought we should kiss to make it more convincing."

"You _what_?!" Scott echoed for the third time, now getting to the point where he was almost annoying. Almost.

"I know!" I screeched, waving my hands in front of me. "And then your mom was lecturing me and I was thinking, 'Huh that was weird why would I want to kiss her?' And now it's like, 'Oh hey, fucking idiot, it's because you like her!'" I groaned, wiping a hand across my forehead again. "I mean, what am I supposed to do now?"

"You take her to the dance," Scott supplied simply. I rested my elbows on the table, turning my attention back to him.

"But I'm supposed to go with Lydia."

"Stiles, who cares?!" he cried. "It's Lydia, she'll be fine!"

"It's Lydia, and she'll be alone," I countered. "I can't just drop her like that. Besides, she's making it up to Allison." Scott ran a frustrated hand through his hair, exasperated with my valid point.

"Fine, I'll take her," he offered, and I scoffed.

"Right, after you made out with her at lacrosse? That will really make it up to Allison." It was amazing how referencing their kiss seemed so easy now. I still felt annoyed, angered that my best friend had betrayed me and lied to me, but it didn't seem as terribly painful as it once had. Just acknowledging my feelings for Sadie, however long I'd had them, seemed to make everything feel so much easier. Scott nodded morosely at my point, clearly not as comforted. "And if I go with Sadie," I continued, "you have no one to go with."

"I'll figure something out," he dismissed. "Just go with her!"

"Scott, Sadie wouldn't want to do that to you either," I pointed out. "You've gotta be there. Not just for the whole forbidden-teenage-romance thing, but because if Peter shows up, we're all screwed." Scott glared, but kept his mouth shut, thinking the statement over and trying to come up with some other excuse. But we both knew that I was right.

"So that's it?" he asked bitterly. "You finally realize that you're totally crazy about Sadie and you're gonna let her go to the formal with me?"

"I have to," I sighed, resting my head in my hands again. "I want to take her but I just…I'm such a fucking idiot." I let my elbows slip to the sides, my head falling down to collide painfully with the tabletop. I groaned, but couldn't find the energy to move. I finally realize I have feelings for an amazing girl I might actually have a shot with, and Scott's werewolfitude and a shitload of other furry problems make sure that I can't do a single goddamn thing about it.

"Hey, it's okay," Scott consoled, reaching over the table to pat me on the shoulder. "You don't have to be her date to spend time with her. We'll think of something." I nodded into the table in reply, pressing my nose into the fake, printed wood.

"Just do me a favor," I sighed, lifting my head so my chin was resting on the tabletop.

"Yeah?"

"Don't…Don't get her any flowers…"

* * *

**A/N: It never ceases to amaze me that this whole scene was about a paragraph in the actual chapter. And here? This is ten pages. I feel like, by the time I go back to writing from Sadie's point of view, everything is going to be like twelve times longer. This could be a chapter on its own, and it's one conversation. I don't even know what I'm doing anymore. But it was heavily requested and it's up. I hope you guys liked it. I was afraid it got really repetitive and sappy, but I physically NEED to publish so I can work on other things. So let me know.**

**In other news, I explained myself poorly in the last chapter. What I intended was to ask for 10 Sadles headcanons, either in a review or a message. And instead, you all seemed to read that as a review OR a headcanon. I'm sorry I was unclear. I don't know. I just really like hearing from you guys.**

**Anyway, let me know what you think!**

**-Brittney**


	16. Dancing Around the Subject

**Chapter 16 - Dancing Around the Subject**

She had lost count. She couldn't believe that she had actually lost count. It was supposed to be minimal, at the most, and yet here she was and she had lost count. She had not signed up for this. Sure, she had agreed out of the goodness of her heart, and possibly because she felt a little guilty, but she did not agree to be subjected to this. Lydia Martin did not agree to lose count of the number of songs she had been forced to dance to with Stiles Stilinski.

Not that Stiles was actually forcing her, per say. He had been polite, but ridiculously quiet ever since they left her house in the rusty blue death trap he called a car. He'd opened the door for her, formally escorted her into the school on his arm, gotten her a drink, and then proceeded to sit next to her in complete silence, eyes glued to the door. She hadn't minded too much at first. Plenty of people were stopping by their table, greeting her with overly wide smiles and her date with curious looks. After a while though, the band had started up and most people had migrated to the dance floor, leaving her shifting in an uncomfortable chair with an unresponsive date.

It was several minutes before he showed any sign of life more complex than his infuriating, bouncing knee. He suddenly sat up in his chair, stretching his neck to see through the crowd. Lydia had needlessly followed his gaze, knowing exactly what he'd spotted. She mentally patted herself on the back when her eyes found Sadie and Scott by the door. Her best friend looked gorgeous, of course. Even in their time separated, she'd managed to keep her curls perfectly in place, and the pink and blue lights looked killer on the sleek red fabric of her dress. Scott had cleaned up pretty nice too. She was tempted to say they made a cute couple, but she was pretty sure the frantically twitching boy next to her was inclined to disagree. Lydia watched him watch Sadie, raising his hand a few times in an attempt to wave. But each time his hand dropped before it could get more than a few inches off the table. Lydia glanced over her shoulder, watching as Sadie and Scott made their way up the stairs to hide in the bleachers. Stiles accidentally let out a whine of frustration, making her roll her eyes as she took a sip of her drink.

He finally did have his greeting acknowledged, and then he was right back to nervous staring. Lydia waited impatiently for some sort of change, but the boy only shifted in his seat as Sadie moved to the dance floor, abandoning Scott in favor of Allison. And Lydia had waited. And waited. And waited for a good three or four songs, before finally taking control of the situation.

She'd cleared her throat, catching Stiles's attention before looking pointedly at the jumping crowd of their classmates. His mouth had hung open like some sort of dead fish, looking between her and the dancers. He'd mumbled some excuse. Lydia, in response, had raised her hand and gestured toward the spot where Sadie and Allison were laughing and spinning wildly. Stiles's second refusal had died in his throat as he got caught up watching them, leaving Lydia to stand and literally drag him onto the dance floor. She'd carefully chosen a spot near her friends, but not too close, and then positioned herself so she had her back to them. This way, Stiles could watch Sadie longingly over her shoulder until he worked up the guts to go talk to her.

That had been almost an hour ago. Maybe more. And she was still swaying awkwardly on the dance floor with her arms around her best friend's crush. She had half a mind to ditch him completely, but that wasn't part of the plan.

She knew that he'd finally realized he liked Sadie. He'd confessed to Scott during lunch. Scott, in turn, had told Allison. Lydia wasn't quite sure where the two stood anymore, but apparently they were fine with talking so long as it wasn't about their own relationship. Allison had told Lydia, and between the three of them, they'd begun to brainstorm ways to get Sadie and Stiles together without the two going as actual dates. Allison had gotten Sadie on the dance floor. Scott had stolen her away for a song in an attempt to talk her into talking to Stiles.

Apparently, that hadn't worked. Sadie had dropped him after one song, forcing him and Allison out on the floor together before retreating to the bleachers. Lydia had quickly turned to Stiles, waiting for some reaction as she walked away. But there was none. He looked a little frustrated, but even so, he just watched her go. Lydia screamed internally. She knew she was supposed to keep him from chickening out, give him something mindless to do while he worked up his courage—and if his dancing was anything besides atrocious it was definitely mindless—but the charade had gone on for far too long. She'd never been a patient person, and she very close to throwing the boy into her best friend's lap and physically forcing their heads together.

They were rocking back and forth, slowly spinning on the spot. Lydia noticed Sadie sit down next to some blonde girl on the bleachers, but Stiles had apparently lost sight of her. He tried to discreetly whip his head back and forth to find her, and in the confusion he stepped on Lydia's toes. She let out a high yelp of pain and frustration. That was the last straw.

"Sorry! Sorry!" he said quickly, looking down at her with wide fearful eyes before panning over the crowd once more.

"Are you done?" she finally snapped, bringing his attention back to her.

"Yeah. Yes. Sorry. No more stepping on feet."

Lydia rolled her eyes, and it took all of her willpower not to dig her nails into the back of his neck as retribution. "I don't give a shit about the shoes, Stilinski!"

"Wh-What?" he stammered, either in pure confusion that she cared about something besides her feet or because he was taken aback at her rare use of curse words.

"Are you done avoiding Sadie?" she spat.

Stiles's already-wide eyes practically doubled in size. "Wh-What?! No! I'm—I'm not… I'm totally… I'm not avoiding her."

"Oh, really?" Lydia pouted, unimpressed by the argument. "Then please explain to me why we're still dancing in the same spot we were an hour ago."

"Because you're my date," he said, nonplussed. "I—I mean, isn't that what dates do? Dance?"

"Yes," she replied tartly. "Real dates dance. But we are not real dates, and this? This is not dancing."

Stiles raised his eyebrows, looking affronted. "What do you mean? This—We're totally dancing." He tightened his arms slightly around her waist, as if to prove his point.

"No, we are not," she argued. "_I_ am maintaining the appearance of dancing while I wait for you to leave, and _you_ are pretending to engage in some sort of movement that should not be considered as dancing _ever_ while you leer over my shoulder and creepily stare at my best friend."

He gaped at her for a moment, unable to stop his eyes from flicking over to Sadie's spot on the bleachers, where he'd finally located her. "I'm…M-My dancing's not that bad," he mumbled, ignoring the second half of her accusation.

Lydia rolled her eyes in exasperation, taking a deep breath in an attempt to retain some shred of patience. "Go talk to her."

"What?" he asked again. "No, I'm… I'm dancing with you right now."

"You've been 'dancing' with me for about an hour," she said, "and honestly I'm kind of sick of it."

"Oh, well thanks. How do you really feel?"

"I _feel_ like we'd all be a lot better off if you two just stopped being so idiotic and got your act together."

"What is that supposed to mean?" he asked, eyebrows knitting together tightly in confusion.

Lydia glared. "It means, go ask Sadie to dance before I slap you in the face."

"Okay w-why are you so violent?!"

"I'm violent because you're frustrating!" she hissed. "Everyone knows that you like Sadie, so just ask her out and get it over with! Please!"

Stiles stopped short, eyebrows shooting up his forehead and his arms falling slightly slack on her waist. "How do you…? I—I mean, why—why would you think that?"

Lydia had to hold her tongue. Generally, she was a very direct person. Her instinct told her to take the most direct path—telling Stiles that Scott had ratted him out so he would have no way to argue. Then she could shove him off on Sadie and escape. But that wasn't very political. The reason she had gotten herself into this mess in the first place was by being selfish and not thinking about other people's feelings. Stiles wasn't supposed to know that Scott had told her and Allison about his confession. If she told him that, then Stiles would be angry at Scott, and then that could cause several unforeseen problems with Sadie and Allison. So in instead, she had to take the long way around. Use a proof and show her work instead of just stating the answer.

"Hm, and do you want those reasons in chronological or alphabetical order? Or," she continued quickly, as Stiles scrunched up his face and opened his mouth to speak, "should I just list general observations as they come to me and then cite specific examples?"

"General observations like what?" he asked, his voice wavering slightly from nerves.

Lydia smirked. "I could start with the fact that she was supposed to be your formal date."

"We… We were only going as friends," he defended quietly, and Lydia narrowed her eyes at him.

"You drunk called her, Stilinski. To be someone's drunk call, they have to be thinking about you pretty extensively."

"Okay, okay!" he relented. "So I was thinking about her while I was drunk. I thought about a lot of things while I was drunk. It doesn't mean anything."

"What about how you always drive her home? Hm? Spend excessive amounts of time with her?"

"Trust me. I have _plenty_ of reasons I have to spend time with Sadie." Lydia narrowed her eyes even further, skepticism rising. "Seriously!" he defended. "And besides, she's—she's one of my really good friends. Why can't I just hang out with my friend?"

Lydia scoffed. "Friends don't look at each other the way you look at Sadie."

Stiles's face paled, and she smirked, knowing she'd hit the nail on the head. "What do you mean 'the way I look at Sadie'? I don't look… I mean, I don't…"

"Oh, so we're pretending like you weren't ready to jump her at my Halloween party?"

The taunt made the boy's eyes widen comically, and his face flushed pink once more. "You…? Wait, did you do…?"

"So we're pretending you weren't totally breathless when she walked down the stairs in her dress earlier?" she continued over his rambling. "Like you haven't spent this entire party staring at the door until she showed up, and then watching her dance with everyone except you and proceeding to do absolutely nothing about it?"

Stiles pursed his lips, visibly at war with himself. Lydia knew that Stiles had finally come to terms with his feelings for Sadie. Their argument wasn't so much him denying that he liked her, but hiding it. Apparently, just because Stiles knew he liked Sadie didn't mean he was ready for the rest of the world to know just yet.

"So what?" he mumbled, his eyes shooting over towards the bleachers again.

Lydia softened slightly. "So? The only reason we're here together is because everyone keeps telling me how you've had some huge crush on me for ages, and that you deserve a chance. But from where I'm standing, I never would have guessed it was _me_ you were supposed to like so much."

She let that thought hang between them for a few minutes as they continued to dance. She noticed as she turned that Sadie had disappeared from her seat for a moment, only to return pulling a shy, lanky boy behind her. He joined her and blonde girl, letting Sadie sit in the middle as she tried to make conversation. Apparently, Stiles had also noticed the new addition to the group. Or at least, Lydia assumed he had, as they'd suddenly stopped spinning. They were still dancing, but Lydia was forced to turn her back on the bleachers, which meant Stiles remained in the perfect spot to keep an eye on the group over her shoulder. But Lydia didn't mind. Hopefully, a little competition would get the boy moving, asking Sadie to dance even if it was just to keep her away from any other boys.

Unfortunately, as she probably should have guessed, it was not that easy. Stiles seemed to have reverted to the same tactic he had used in trying to wave at Sadie. His arms would loosen on Lydia's waist, drop almost completely to his sides as he took a deep, determined breath. And then he would change his mind, wrap his arms around her once more and glare at the group over her shoulder. She let this go on for a few songs before she decided that it was time to push him forward again.

"Is she still having a nice time with her boy toy?" she taunted airily, earning herself a glare from her dance partner.

"He's not a boy toy."

"Right, of course not," Lydia said with a nod. "He's just a boy she's entertaining herself with until you man up."

"Can you stop?!" Stiles finally burst. "This isn't—This isn't just about manning up, okay? I… I really, really like her. Okay? I like Sadie. Are you happy?"

"Marginally," she said shortly.

Stiles deflated slightly, looking back at the girl in question while he continued. "I like her and… I don't want to lose her. It's not like I'm afraid to actually ask her to dance. I'm just… I don't want to freak her out if she doesn't like me, cause I can't _not_ be friends with her. I… I can't risk our friendship."

Lydia stared at him for a few seconds. Part of her was honestly touched that Stiles cared about her best friend so much. He'd set her up with the boy he thought she wanted, even though he'd clearly been bitter about it, even before he consciously realized he liked her. He watched her with this…this strange amount of emotion. She'd described it as leering before, but that wasn't true. It wasn't a crude or suggestive look. It was the kind of expression that made it look like he was thinking about honest, cute things—slow dancing or cuddling or something—and not just sex. And above all, he was willing to keep his feelings hidden forever if it was the only way to continue spending time with her. Lydia didn't have a lot of experience with wanting someone you couldn't have—except this brief obstacle she was experiencing with Jackson—but from what she did know, that was pure agony. Stiles had to really, really care about Sadie.

However, the other part of Lydia was about to start slapping Stiles senseless for being stupid enough to think that Sadie didn't like him. That was the part that won out.

"Oh my God, come on," she growled, snatching his wrists and dragging him off the dance floor. Stiles tripped awkwardly behind her, offering weak, half-finished protests as she led him towards the edge of the room. Safely off the dance floor, and with a perfectly unobstructed view of the bleachers, Lydia rounded on him. "I seriously have no idea what she sees in you!"

"Wh-What?" he stammered. "W-Who? Sadie?"

"You're twitchy, you're weird, and you're very clearly one of the most oblivious people on the planet!"

"Woah, hey. Thank you," Stiles said, throwing his hands up between them as if holding her off from physically attacking him. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about Sadie," Lydia snapped, "and how terrible she actually is at hiding how much she likes you!"

Stiles's mouth hung open as he stood in front of her, and for a moment Lydia regretted her words. Sadie was her best friend. She wasn't supposed to breathe a word about her secret affections to anyone, let alone the object in question. But Stiles was frustratingly skittish, and Lydia had no idea how to convince him to go through with asking Sadie to dance without attempting to give him some sort of proof that things would work out. Besides, Scott had agreed to break the sacred rules of friendship by talking to Sadie about all the things Stiles had said about her. It was only fair that Stiles receive some insight from Lydia. Sadie would be angry, of course. But right now, Sadie's happiness and love life were Lydia's top priority. She'd deal with the anger later, after Sadie had a boyfriend.

"What… What do you mean?" Stiles asked slowly, his voice exhibiting the ultimate amount of control.

Lydia stomped her foot, putting her hands on her hips. "What do you think I mean, Stiles?! I mean that she likes you. For some inexplicable reason, she's always liked you, and she's terrible at pretending that she doesn't, so the fact that you are just so worried about the possibility that she won't is not only pointless, but idiotic."

Stiles blinked hard, his head shaking slightly as he tried to process her words. "She…?"

"Why do you think she agreed to wear the familiar costume on Halloween, hm?"

"Familiar?" Stiles asked, raising his eyebrows in confusion and making Lydia emit a strangled noise of annoyance.

"The cat costume, Stiles! Why do you think she agreed to change into the cat costume instead of her zombie thing? Why do you think I suddenly don't have to beg her to wear lipgloss or lipstick? Why do you think she still has you hat sitting on her desk? Why do you think she spent hours on a sign to cheer for you at lacrosse? She likes you just as much as you like her, and you're both disgustingly blind to it!"

"Then why am I here?" he demanded. "Why was she so okay with me going with you instead of her?"

Lydia rolled her eyes. "Please tell me you're not _that_ stupid."

"What? That's not stupid! That's a valid question!"

"You're here with me because, believe it or not, Sadie's not as confident as she seems." That statement honestly did seem to throw Stiles a bit. The annoyed glare dropped off his face, traded for an expression of astonishment as he slowly turned to look Sadie on the bleachers. Lydia continued. "She's just as nervous and self-conscious as anyone else, and right now she's under the impression that there's no way you could like her more than you like me."

"But I do," he admitted softly.

"Then do us all a favor and go prove her wrong."

Stiles was still for a few seconds, staring at Sadie and her acquaintances. They were all laughing together about something or another. Sadie was still seated firmly between the two, skirt flaring neatly over her crossed legs as she perched herself on the edge of the bench. The blonde said something, bringing her back to reality. Then the boy was speaking. Sadie sat up slightly in her chair, eyes panning over the crowd in search of something or someone. Stiles quickly ducked his head and turned back to Lydia.

"I can't."

Lydia's carefully composed supportive expression melted into one of quietly seething rage. "Stiles. If you don't go over there and ask Sadie to dance, I am going to punch you in the throat."

"A-Again with the violence!"

"Honestly, what do you have to lose?!" she barked, crossing her arms over her chest. "You like Sadie. I just told you she likes you, so she's obviously not going to say no."

"Why should I believe you?" he objected quickly. "I mean, it's not like you've been a great example of kindness for the last ten years."

Lydia narrowed her eyes. "Sadie's my best friend. If I though you asking her out would upset her, why would I tell you to do it?"

Stiles didn't seem to have a good answer for that. He opened and closed his mouth once or twice before giving up, one hand lifting to rub at the back of his neck. He shot a quick look over his shoulder before letting his gaze return to the gym floor. "What if I screw up?"

"Oh I'm sure you will," she snapped. "But Sadie seems to think your complete social incompetence is cute. Even if it took you a hundred to times to get the right sentence out, she'd probably say it was adorable."

He glanced up at her to check if she was joking, his face flushing pink under the neon lights. He took a deep breath and then shook his head. "No. No. I can't."

"Oh my God!" Lydia grabbed him by the shoulders and physically wrenched him around to face the bleachers. "I want my friend to get the happiness she deserves for once, so I don't care if I have to push you over there myself, you are going to dance with her!"

"Wh-What?! No! I…!"

"Go! Now!" Lydia shoved him forward, making him stumble a few steps in Sadie's direction. He turned back, eyes wide with fear and mouth open to protest, but Lydia only raised a finger to point in Sadie's direction. Thankfully, the boy seemed to have given up fighting, and slowly turned back towards the bleachers, shuffling along as if Lydia had sentenced him to some horrifying death.

Sadie must have realized what was going on at that point, since she'd ducked her head and turned completely towards the blonde girl, hiding her face from Stiles. But after a few seconds, she stood, brushing off her dress and patting her hair down before making her way towards her ex-date. Lydia watched as they met halfway, as Sadie sent her a glare for sending Stiles over to her. But Lydia only smirked.

The couple conversed awkwardly for a minute before Stiles took Sadie's hand and led her towards the dance floor. Lydia breathed a sigh of relief. They'd done it. They'd actually gotten Sadie and Stiles together. Or at least, well on their way. They'd done all they could do, and the rest was up to them.

She poured herself a quick congratulatory drink and downed it, keeping her eyes trained on her best friend and her faux-date. It was time to sit back, enjoy the show, and watch the pieces fall into place.

* * *

**A/N: Whoo! Okay, so I know that bunches of you wanted the dance from Stiles's perspective, but I had always planned on writing this one-shot instead. Sorry it's taken me so long to put up. I've been doing paperwork and being a responsible young adult this week, which is gross. But now that the bulk of my work is past for a bit, I could update.**

**And I have some very, very important announcements to make! So first of all, there's only two one shots left in this story before I begin work on the sequel. And yes, one of those two will be Stiles's wet dream. I got my ten Sadles headcanons from all of my lovely readers on tumblr, so if you want to go read some hot, some sad, or some cutesy things about our beloved couple, go check those out. And let's all keep our fingers crossed that Brittney is decent at writing wet dreams...**

**And the second, probably more important announcement is that the sequel now has a title! Well, it has for a while, but I'm choosing to release it now. The sequel to The Wild Side will be called Right Beside You, and I hope that you guys enjoy it as much as you enjoyed the first installment!**

**Let me know what you think!**

**-Brittney**


	17. Temptation

**Chapter 17 - Temptation**

"I like you, Stiles."

Stiles let out a sigh of frustration and fear. The night really hadn't gone according to plan at all. As if it wasn't bad enough that he hadn't gotten to kiss Sadie, he'd had to abandon her and Lydia on the lacrosse field to keep them safe. Lydia was bloody and unconscious, Sadie had slashes from Peter's claws marring her shoulder, and to top it all off, Stiles's Jeep keys had just been mangled in front of his eyes. He was going to have to run all the way to the hospital to find out if they were okay.

Of course, that was only if he got out of this dark parking garage alive. Peter had forced him down here to hack Scott's laptop so they could find Derek, who was presumably being held captive by the Argents. But now that they knew that Derek was locked away in his own cellar at the Hale house, Stiles had essentially become disposable, and despite Peter's whole speech about not being the bad guy, Stiles wasn't going to take his word that he wasn't about to have his throat slashed open.

"Since you've helped me," Peter said, as if Stiles hadn't made any sound of disbelief, "I'm going to give you something in return. Do you want the bite?"

Stiles's whole brain stalled at the simple question. That was the exact opposite of what he had been expecting, which was honestly more along the lines of, _"I'll kill you painlessly instead of drawing it out and letting you bleed to death as I eat you alive."_ And Peter had said it so nonchalantly, as if he offered dorky teenagers the chance to become werewolves with super strength and super hearing and super healing and super everything everyday.

"What?" he managed to choke out.

"Do you want the bite?" he repeated, over enunciating each word like Stiles really hadn't been able to hear him. But his mouth just hung open, unable to form a proper response. At his silence, Peter pushed on. "If it doesn't kill you—and it could—you'll become like us."

Stiles had to force the words out of his throat, his mind still struggling to come to terms with the idea that the conversation he was currently having was even plausible. "Like you?"

"Yes, a werewolf. Would you like me to draw you a picture?" Peter snapped.

Stiles didn't respond. He couldn't even bring himself to give an exasperated sigh at Peter's jab. He just felt like his entire body was frozen. The bite had to come from an Alpha, and Peter was the only Alpha they knew. It wasn't likely he was going to feel this generous ever again, especially if they succeeded in stopping or killing him that night. It was a one-time chance, an opportunity to get something from Peter before he was gone. Peter seemed to sense where his mind was heading, as he stepped forward.

"That night in the woods, I took Scott because I needed a new pack. It could've easily been you. You'd be every bit as powerful as him. No more standing by his side, watching him get stronger, and quicker and more popular, watching him get the girl. You'd be equals."

It was tempting, and they both knew it. Peter was preying on his insecurities. It was certainly a possibility Stiles had thought of before. He wanted to be better. He wanted to be powerful. Sure, Scott had gotten better at lacrosse, gotten more popular. Those were things that Stiles wanted too, but it was more than that. It was doing endless amounts of research to keep Scott informed while he made out with Allison. It was watching Scott blunder through trial after trial when he didn't even know what he was doing. It was standing by while his dad got hurt, while his friends got attacked, while people were getting killed, and having to rely on Scott to do something. Stiles was just a fragile little human. But he could be so much more. He was infinitely more prepared for being a werewolf than Scott and been. He could handle it. He could. He could be a better werewolf than Scott.

At least, he had thought that at some point. But it wasn't something he'd considered for a while. He'd stayed by Scott's side throughout the whole ordeal, and he'd watched as being a werewolf had torn his life apart. He didn't want to get shot at by hunters. He didn't want to strain the relationship he had with his father by adding another secret to the list of things he was keeping from him. He didn't want to have to worry about seeming normal and hiding his new talents in case suspicion rose among his classmates. He didn't want to live in perpetual fear of slipping up and hurting someone he loved. So maybe he was a little useless. He didn't want to be Scott anymore.

"We are equals," Stiles finally answered, his voice a little hoarse. "Wouldn't have made it this far if we weren't."

"I think we both know that's not true, Stiles," Peter said. "You're not exactly equals. But if you want to go on in denial, that's fine too. It's not really Scott you have to worry about anyway…"

Stiles tensed at Peter's tone. It was light, casual, and therefore all the more threatening. "And who am I supposed to be worrying about?" he asked, against his better judgment.

Peter smirked, but attempted to compose his face into a semblance of an innocent expression. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe a pretty girl with lovely brown hair, big doe eyes and a Hollywood smile?" Stiles felt his blood run cold as Sadie's face flashed into his mind—first the blinding grin she'd sent him on her first day at school, and then her teary, distraught face as he abandoned her on the lacrosse field.

"Stop," he growled, making Peter smile.

"I actually think you two make a lovely couple," he said, clasping his hands behind his back and shrugging slightly. "The brainiacs, children of single parents, friends-turned-lovers. I just think it'd be a shame if…that ever changed…"

"Stay away from her!" Stiles barked before he could stop himself.

Peter rolled his eyes. "Please, Stiles, I don't have any plans on hurting Sadie. You heard her yourself. She doesn't want anything to do with me. But you can't honestly believe that I'm the only thing that could come between you two." Stiles gulped, uncomfortable with where the conversation was headed, but trying to keep his gaze steady. But no matter what he looked like on the outside, Peter could tell what was happening in his head. He smirked. "I mean, you two lovebirds hang out with werewolves for fun, constantly bombarded with all these men with super speed and super strength, things you couldn't dream of doing in a million years. And don't think this is the end of it. Where there's an Alpha," he paused to point himself with raised eyebrows, "there are always desperate stragglers dying to join a pack. Scott and Derek aren't the only werewolves you're going to run into. And when all these new wolfs come to town, how long do you think Sadie's going to be content with just the human sidekick to protect her?"

"Shut up," Stiles muttered, but the Alpha was already worming his way into his head. Stiles may not have wanted the life that Scott had, but one thing he did want, maybe more than anything else, was Sadie. He wanted to be the kind of guy Sadie deserved, who would make her happy. For now, he was lucky. He'd gotten her attention, almost had her in his reach. But how long would that last? Sadie could probably have her pick of the guys at school. How long was it going to be before she got tired of his awkwardness, or his geekiness, or all his weaknesses? What if she did find someone she liked better? Some hot guy who was actually in her league, a werewolf who didn't need to rely on his best friend to keep her safe? There was no way he could compete with that.

"Of course, you don't need to let it get to that point," Peter continued, carelessly waving a hand through the air before returning it to his back. "You take the bite. You get the powers. You get to keep the girl. You and Scott may be equals, but what about when someone even better than Scott comes along?" He ventured a little farther forward, leaning into Stiles so he could continue in a voice just above a whisper. "You could be her own personal superhero."

It was that word that sent Stiles's brain into overdrive. It was what he'd always wanted. His chance to be Batman instead of Robin. His chance to be _Sadie's_ Batman. He could protect her from whatever harm was coming on his own, without worrying about having to count on Scott. He didn't have to worry about hurting himself in the process either. And after they defeated Peter, he'd get to keep all the perks. He wanted to actually play on the lacrosse field, tune out everything except Sadie's voice when she finally brought her sign to a game to cheer him on as he weaved in and out of the other players, scoring again and again. He wanted to be strong instead of gangly, be able to carry Sadie around on his back for hours without getting tired, or whatever she wanted. He wanted to kiss her senseless while listening to her heart pounding in her chest, beating faster or skipping beats altogether. And once he got his powers under control, learned to find his anchor in Sadie or his dad, then maybe they could put his agility and super strength to some more creative uses. Not that he wanted to be thinking about that at the moment, with Peter standing in front of him and probably more than aware of all the thoughts flying through his brain.

Peter reached out, taking hold of Stiles's wrist more gently than he would have thought possible. And for some reason he couldn't understand, Stiles didn't stop him. He just stood there in awed silence, watching in fascination as Peter's hand tightened around his forearm, raising his arm up to his face.

"Yes or no?"

Stiles wanted to answer, but his mouth wasn't working. Goddamnit, he was just not in the right state of mind to be making such a huge fucking decision. But it didn't matter. It was now or never. Yes. He'd do it. He just wanted to be special. His friends, his dad, Sadie deserved to have someone special. He deserved to _be_ special. He'd deal with the consequences, but he had to protect everyone. He'd do it for Sadie.

_Sadie_. Her words rung again in his mind as Peter opened his mouth to bite him. _"He wants to turn me. He's not going to kill me."_ So Peter had offered her the bite. They could be wolves together, if she agreed to it before they killed him. But she had said no. Peter had just said she didn't want anything to do with him. Why had she turned it down? He knew she wanted to protect people too, that she could be insecure and wanted to be better. So what had made her say no? Did it matter? If Sadie had thought of a reason not to go through with it, shouldn't that have been enough for him? But she'd understand why he'd done it, right?

Then again, Stiles wasn't the only person Sadie was friends with who'd considered the bite. He thought back to her reaction the morning she'd found out that Jackson wanted to become a werewolf. She'd been furious, run out after him at lunch to have a screaming match. She couldn't believe that he'd want to do something so stupid just so he'd be better at lacrosse. That wasn't Stiles's reason, but was he any better? Was his desperation to ensure that Sadie would stay interested in him any less petty than Jackson's desire to stay the star of the lacrosse team?

Peter's teeth were elongating into fangs. He was going to bite him. He couldn't go through with it, though. He was so close to having Sadie. She'd be furious if he let himself get turned. She had chosen to continue protecting her friends as a human. Despite all the drawbacks of being so fragile and weak in the supernatural world, she'd refused the bite. And if Sadie had done it, he would too. It was a terrifying and dangerous choice, but he wouldn't force Sadie to go through what he had by making her one of the only humans in their group. They'd get through it together.

At the last possible second, Stiles ripped his arm back to his side. Peter's jaws snapped in empty air, one hand still raised where he'd been holding Stiles's wrist. There was a long moment of silence as the decision set in. Stiles was practically shaking from the effort it took to refuse. But he knew it was the right thing to do.

Peter moved slowly, lowering his hand and moving his eyes up to look at Stiles.

"I don't wanna be like you," Stiles said, shifting back away from the Alpha.

Peter didn't advance on him. Instead, he cocked his head slightly to the side, a sinister smile growing over his face. "You know what I heard just then?" he asked. "Your heart beating slightly faster over the words 'I don't want.'" Stiles pursed his lips. "You may believe that you're telling the truth, but you are lying to yourself."

"I'm not," Stiles answered. He knew that he didn't need to explain himself to the man in front of him. In fact, it was probably smarter not to. Every word he said to Peter was likely to get twisted, used against him later when it came back to bite him in the ass. But for some reason, he didn't seem to be able to keep his stupid mouth shut. "I get that being a werewolf has perks, and I get that there's consequences—lying and hunters and all that shit. That's not what I'm talking about." Peter raised a curious eyebrow. "I probably wouldn't mind all that much. But me turning into something I'm not puts more people in danger. And I'm not taking the chance that I'm gonna lose everything and wind up a lonely, psychopathic bastard like you."

It was a stupid, _stupid_, **_stupid_** thing to say. Hadn't he just been saying to himself a minute ago that Peter's word about not killing him wasn't that reliable? And that definitely warranted at least a good slash across his chest. But Stiles couldn't bring himself to regret it.

Peter's smirk dropped instantaneously off his face. His jaw clenched, and his eyes flashed a bright, bloody red. Stiles braced himself, ready for Peter to spring and try to tear him limb from limb. All he had as a weapon was a handful of useless, bent keys. It wasn't much, but he was going to have to make do. However, Peter never pounced. He just took several heaving breaths before twisting his head back and forth, stretching his neck and easing the tension. Finally he smiled once more, though it looked like he was in actual, physical pain.

"Goodbye, Stiles," he said shortly. And he turned on his heel, walking to his car and ducking in the driver's side door.

Stiles had a moment of panic, ready to call him back to bite him anyway. But Sadie's face flashed again in his mind, flushed under the pink and blue lights, inches away from his own. Her eyes fluttered shut, and he could feel her breath on his face, mingling with his own.

He didn't need to be a werewolf. What he needed was to get back to her.

He jumped back as Peter pulled out of the parking space, tires screeching against the pavement as he peeled out of the garage. He glanced towards his Jeep, sitting forlornly in the shadows, and then down at the hunk of crushed metal in his hands. He bent down to the asphalt, attempting in vain to try and flatten the keys out again against the ground. But it was no use. The keys were inoperable. He'd have to abandon the Jeep for now.

Stiles felt a wave of desperation building up in his chest, growing and growing until it broke. He let out a strangled scream, swinging his leg to kick whatever stranger's car he was standing next to. He kicked at it repeatedly, until suddenly the car alarm went off. He stumbled back, just managing to keep himself upright. It had startled him, but it felt good to have a release. His rage had done something. It might not have been constructive, but he'd gotten a reaction from the car, even if he hadn't gotten one from Peter.

He forced himself to take a deep breath. He closed his eyes, watching the colors of the car lights flash from the inside of his eyelids, concentrating on his breathing and the steady wail of the alarm. He had to get back to Sadie. Lydia could be dying, and Sadie was hurt. Fuck the Jeep. He'd run all the way there if he had to. There were important things going on. Maybe it would have been smarter to head straight for the Hale house, since Scott apparently seemed to know Derek was there now too. But he didn't care what was smart.

Stiles sighed, tucking his keys into the pockets of his dress pants. He ran his hands down his face and started running. He had to get to Sadie. They were going to be fine.

* * *

**A/N: Two updates back to back, wow I know. I had plans on being productive today, but of course, that didn't happen. Anyway, thank you for reading the second to last chapter of The Other Side. If you're interested, I'm also posting a playlist on my tumblr, to give you guys a feel for what's going to happen in the sequel. Check it out!**

**Thank you as always, and I can't wait to hear from you!**

**-Brittney**


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